


A Rush of Blood to the Head

by Moriartied



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cutting, M/M, Major Character Injury, Self-Harm, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:24:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriartied/pseuds/Moriartied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's first hunt, an attempt to prove himself to his father, fails when Dean gets hurt. Sam turns to cutting to cope with the pain, the guilt and the clear disappointment from his father. Will be 50k+, WIP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Naz (sideburnsandbowlegs|tumblr).

Sam sat at Dean's bedside, staring at his brother's unconscious figure with bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. It was his fault. It was his fault Dean got his leg smashed by the poltergeist. It was all his fault because he was the one who convinced Dean to ask Dad to let them take this case alone. He'd wanted to prove he was ready. That he was just as good as Dean. He was sixteen, and he was tired of his father treating him like a little kid.

And now he just proved his father right. He fucked up. And now Dean was unconscious, and his father was passed out drunk, and he was on the verge of tears. Angry tears filled with self-hatred and guilt. He wanted to reach out and touch Dean, squeeze his hand, and have Dean wake up and tell him everything was going to be okay. But it wasn't going to work like that.

He pushed back his chair from Dean's bedside and fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him as the sobs broke free. He slid down the wall, curling up in a ball. He looked down at his hands, hands that should have protected Dean. Should have fired the gun sooner. Should have stopped the wardrobe from slamming Dean into the wall. He stared at his hands, perfect uninjured hands, and let out a raw, choked scream.

Then he reached into his back pocket for his Swiss Army knife, and started hacking.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, there were dozens of red jagged lines crisscrossing his forearms. He'd wiped the tears from his eyes, pulled his sleeves down over his hands, and put on a brave face for the world. He returned to his seat by Dean's bed, and eventually fell asleep to his brother's soft, slow breathing.

Dean woke up the next morning, with a massive headache and that constant oozing pain in his leg. That wardrobe messed him up pretty bad. But it was okay, because he got hurt and Sam was unharmed, that was all he was worried about when Dad let them go on a hunt by themselves, and he proved that he could protect Sammy with his life. He felt pretty damn good about himself.

He felt that soothing relief when he noticed Sam still sleeping by his side. His face was expressionless, and peaceful, unlike that night. He was so scared… And if Dean wasn't dealing with the poltergeist, he would've stopped, held Sam and told him everything was okay. He shook the memories away, and reached out with his hand to touch Sam. He didn't want to wake him, but he was also desperate to see those brown innocent eyes looking at him like he was some sort of god. He needed that, to get better. To be sure…To ease the pain… He gently brushed his palm against Sam's hand and suddenly he was happy. It wasn't a dream. Sam really was unharmed, and safe, by his side. It was more than he could ask for.

He turned his eyes to the rest of the room, scanning for his father. He wasn't expecting Dad to be here, he'd probably gone out for coffee and donuts like he always did, but Dean still looked. He let his head fall back on the pillow with a grunt and that movement sent a shooting pain down his leg. He couldn't keep a small gasp inside.

Both curious and worried at the condition of his leg, he yanked the sheets off of them and saw that 2 of the stitches popped open, and blood dripping from his leg to the sheets. Dad's stitches didn't pop open that easily, but these were the ones where the flesh was mostly in shreds, little skin left to be stitched closed.

"Shit…" Dean whispered, and tried to reach for the washcloth on the nightstand. Before he could grab it, he felt a slight brush against his arm.

There it was… Sam's big brown eyes. Looking at him as if he'd seen a ghost. Worriedly moving back and forth from his eyes to his leg. He looked awful.

"It's nothing Sam, I just.. moved too fast. If I could just reach for the…" and he tried for the washcloth again. Sam stopped him, jumping out of his seat.

"D-Dean," Sam croaked, still a little groggy with sleep. Then he blinked and became aware of the situation, leaping up from his chair. "Shit Dean are you okay? I'm sorry. Can I get you something?" He hovered tentatively over Dean, desperate to touch him but scared of hurting him even more. "Dean." And the tears were back. He swallowed and pulled his sleeves further down over his hands.

Dean must be so disappointed in him. Sure he would never say it, but Sam knew. Sam knew that he'd let his brother down. He turned away from Dean as the tears started streaming down his face.

"Yeah... If you could just hand me the— Sam? What's going on? Sam? Sammy?" Then it hit him. Of course Sam wouldn't want to look at him. He may have protected Sam from the physical pain, but the shock and pain of what he saw was right there. He failed to protect his brother. His pain was his brother's pain. "What's wrong? Please... just talk to me. I can't get up, man. I need you to come over here, please just sit down for a moment. Sam…" He made a big leap towards the nightstand and finally caught the washcloth, and pressed it on the wound. "Sam, can you come over here please? I need new stitches and Dad is not around. I need you to keep it together and patch me up."

Sam swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, okay, stitches." He reached for the med kit, and then tentatively sat down on the bed. He kept his eyes trained on Dean's leg and silently treated it with alcohol and then stitched it up again, working hard to keep his hands steady. When he finished he quickly pulled back from Dean, still sitting on the bed, but keeping a distance between them.

"Dean I'm sorry," he whispered, staring at the ground.

It felt amazing to have Sam taking care of him. His touches were light, not like his father's, and warm. He would've sworn he couldn't feel any pain when Sam touched his skin. But then Sam backed away, and it was painful again. He winced at the missing warmth of Sam. "You did great, Sam. It looks like it's going to hold… Just… C'mere." He waved his hands at him, asking him to come closer.

Sam was acting weird. But… what did he expect? It was his first hunt; of course he would be scared. Dean beat himself up over how he could've protected Sam better. He needed to tell him that. Hold him, and make it better.

Sam didn't look up at his brother. He just gripped his sleeves tighter and concentrated on keeping his voice from trembling. "I messed up, Dean. I panicked, and you got hurt. It's my fault."

He stared at the bloody washcloth on the bed in front of him. Dean's blood. He shut his eyes as bile burned the back of his throat.

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. He didn't have the composure to form a meaningful answer. He'd been assuming the wrong thing all along. _Stupid Winchester._  He thought. _You've been big enough of a jerk to overlook this._ "Sammy…" He pressured the bridge of his nose to hold himself back. He could jump out of bed right this instant, grab Sam and push his head to his chest. But the fucking pain made it impossible. "Sam it's not your fault. It-it was me. I should've been more careful. I should've been better… It's okay, Sam. It has nothing to do with you…"

Sam glanced up with wet eyes. "What are you talking about?" Sam frowned, still refusing to move any closer to Dean. "You're the one who's hurt. I should have protected you." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Dad was right. I'm not ready."

Dean kept silent for a moment, and then lashed out with anger. "Dad knows nothing about you, Sam! Okay? You are not what you think you are. You're not a coward, not incompetent. You ganked that poltergeist while I was whining about my leg like a little girl and passing out like a sissy, right? That makes you brave! Now, fuck, Sam, get your fucking ass over here!" He hit his hand down on the bed hard.

Sam was speechless. It was the first time he'd heard Dean say anything bad about their father. He was always defending the man. Telling Sam that Dad just wanted the best for them, that he was trying, and sure he might not be the most loving or affectionate man, but he really did care. Dean had always been on Sam's side, comforting him and telling him everything would be okay after his fights with Dad, but he'd never confronted their father himself, and never admitted that he could be wrong.

So Sam slowly scooted closer to Dean, finally meeting his eyes. "You really… you really think that?"

Dean slowly sat up in bed, trying not to move his leg too much, and turned his deep green eyes to Sam. "Yes, Sammy. I really think that. Is that so hard to believe?" His voice was gentler, and more content. The heat had returned and there was no feeling better for Dean. Before Sam could say anything Dean hugged Sam, pulling closer, pressing his body against Sam's as if his feelings could pass on to Sam just by touching. He wanted Sam to feel the way he felt about Sam. He wanted him to have the confidence, sure, but more than that, he wanted Sam to love him…look at him like he was all Sam needed forever.

After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, Sam was leaning against the headboard, in Dean's arms. It was silent. Perfect for what Dean was about to do. What he imagined doing for hours and hours at night. He held his hand up, and cupped Sam's cheek, feeling the heat pouring out of Sam. This had got to be a sign, a sign that Sam felt the same. Then his fingers went down his chin and lifted Sam's head up, gently. They breathed the same air for seconds before Dean leaned forward, to place the softest kiss on Sam's lips. He was tense, watching out for every move Sam made that could indicate that he didn't feel this way. Then Dean backed away, looking into Sam's eyes for a response.

Sam's whole body tensed. He'd lost himself in Dean's warmth, in the feel of Dean's arms around him. It felt so safe and so right.

And then Dean's lips were on his.

And just as suddenly they were gone and Sam was left staring at his brother.

"Dean," he breathed. And then he crushed his lips against his brother's, fisting his hands in Dean's tee-shirt and pulling himself closer. He put every emotion he'd been keeping locked inside for the last three years into the kiss, and let the tears stream freely down his already damp cheeks.

Dean was waiting for a flinch, for a "what the fuck are you doing", for some disgusted impression on Sam's face. He knew he'd screwed up this time. But no… There was that look on Sam's face, nothing like the other looks. It was pure love, need, and ache.

Dean responded with passion when Sam crushed back onto his lips. Dean held Sam tighter as the kiss deepened. He asked for entrance. And Sam opened up. The warmth, the feeling of Sam's tongue exploring his mouth, him exploring Sam's. He needed more. He was in the middle of the feeling, still, he needed more. He turned his body, and grabbed Sam's waist and pulled him closer, letting Sam slide his thigh onto his. Sam was careful, he didn't want Dean hurt, and that made Dean smile into the kiss. Sam loved him, and that was the only kick he needed to heal fast and get the fuck on his feet.

But his train of thought was severed with the sound of Dad's truck pulling into the lot.

Sam leaped away from Dean as soon as he heard the engine.

"Shit," he mumbled, sitting back down in the chair. He scrubbed his face with his palm and tried to slow his breathing. He was so concerned about his father finding them out that he almost forgot how pissed the man probably was at him. That thought hit him in the gut like a sack of bricks. He managed to convey some of his distress to Dean before the door of the motel room swung open violently.

Dean got the chance to squeeze Sam's hand once tight for support before his father came in. He adjusted the sheets and tried to lower his voice to a non-caring tone, like nothing ever happened. "Mornin' Dad." He could still see the fear in Sam's eyes. He looked up to his father, hell, worshipped him, but that look made him want to slug the man, hard.

It was as Dean guessed. Dad was out for coffee and donuts. He dropped them onto the table with a loud thump that made Sam flinch. "Mornin' boys. Dean, how are you feeling?" he growled out. Dean's stomach tensed with his tone. But he was determined not to let him yell at Sam this time. "I'm fine, sir. A couple of stitches popped open when I tried to move but Sam patched me up again." He smiled at Sam reassuringly.

John walked up to the bed, moved the sheets aside and took a look at Dean's leg. "Good." He glared at Sam for a moment, his face softened, but still angry. "There's an easy hunt just out of town. I'm gonna go check it out. I want you both to stay here. I'll be back in a couple of days, and I called Bobby to let him know, if you need anything, or something goes wrong, call me or him." He looked outside the window before grabbing his duffel. He was not used to saying it this way, it felt weird, but he still said it: "Sam… Take care of Dean." And he slammed the door shut. Just like that, in less than 10 minutes, Dad was gone again, like always.

Dean let out a restless sigh, and looked at his brother.

Sam couldn't meet Dean's gaze. What their father said… it just brought back all the things he'd been feeling since last night. He  _hadn't_ taken care of Dean. He'd promised Dean he could handle the hunt, that nothing would go wrong, but he'd failed. And Dean was hurt. And Dad was disappointed.

He could talk himself down from caring what their father thought, convince himself that the man had unreasonable expectations of his teenage sons, but he couldn't bear knowing that Dean was hurt because of him.

The tears were back, and that made Sam feel even worse. He was supposed to be proving that he was a man, and here he was bawling like a little girl. He didn't deserve Dean's unfaltering trust. He didn't deserve the love Dean was offering to him.

It had always been Dean taking care of Sammy. And then when Sam finally had the chance to repay his brother, he'd failed. He'd already taken so much from his brother, he didn't deserve anything more.

He finally turned to look at his brother and said in a hollow voice, "You don't have to do this."

Dean's face bittered at Sam's words… He didn't understand. Sam was always hard to crack, but this was beyond Dean's skills. "Do what, Sammy?" He was afraid of the answer he was going to get. Sam's voice made sure of that.

Dean waited for an answer… But Sam's mouth was sealed shut. "What, Sammy? You're freaking me out here…" He wanted to ask him to come close again, waved his hand. He wanted Sam close right now, because he was the only one who could make it better.

"You know what I'm talking about," Sam said to the floor, but he sat down on the bed next to Dean nonetheless. "Protecting me. Always putting me before yourself. Dammit Dean, I'm the reason you're hurt. You can't argue with that."

He hesitantly moved closer to Dean so they were touching again. He took a deep breath, and then looked up at Dean with wary eyes. "Why?" he asked. Then at Dean's confusion he clarified. "Why do you… why did you kiss me?"

"Damn it Sam… I actually can argue with that. You're not the one who unleashed the poltergeist on our asses! It's a part of the job, you might get hurt sometimes. I know you're new at the whole fieldwork thing but that's how it goes, and if you're gonna blame yourself every time one of us gets hurt, I'm gonna lock your ass in the motel room and hunt by myself, okay?" Dean couldn't believe Sam was still stuck at that. Dad was pushing him too hard. His voice softened and tried to come up with something not cheesy for the second question. He knew he would fail miserably and go touchy-feely on him, but it was worth a shot.

"And for the kiss…" Oh, it was already getting girly. Dean let out a small chuckle. "Look, I've been... I've been trying to keep this to myself… But it's been getting out of control. I mean… I… Man, it's hard to say it…" He was sweating like a pig, and stuttering like a scared 5 year old. _Well, way to fuck up Winchester!_  He thought, and then he stopped talking.

The lump in Sam's throat was finally starting to dissolve as Dean talked. The pain and guilt fighting in his stomach were slowly being edged out by the warm, safe,  _Dean_  feeling. He turned his head to bury his face in Dean's neck.

"Yeah, me too," he said softly with a smile, cutting Dean off. He'd been scared that Dean had only done it because he thought Sam wanted it, that he was just putting Sam's needs before his own like always. But Dean's mumbled explanation was sincere.

He snaked his hand into Dean's and gave a reassuring squeeze. "We'll be okay, right?"

Dean was ecstatic… He would jump out of bed, and give Sam a full-body hug and squeeze as tight as he could if it weren't for his busted leg. So he pulled closer, never letting Sam's hand out of his. Sam's breath on his neck tickled his senses. His sweet breath washing out every worry Dean had, he tilted Sam's head up for one more kiss. They were free to do it, finally. They could touch each other without the doubts and worries. They could feel together.

And he dove into the warmth that was Sam; more passionate, demanding this time. His hands felt Sam's neck. His pulse was racing. And so was his. Dean felt a fire flaring up deep in his stomach and moaned into the kiss; letting his hand trace down Sam's neck and rub his shoulder, moving onto his waist. It was bliss…

He broke away from Sam… Looking at his swollen red lips and demanding eyes. "Umm… Have you ever..?"

Sam's eyes went wide at the question. "Have I ever what?" he asked quickly, feigning innocence, but his cheeks flushing with embarrassment gave him away. He shook his head, bracing himself for Dean's inevitable teasing.

Dean had never seen anything more beautiful. Sam's face was as red as it got. He tried to hold in a wide smile, but it burst out of his lips, finding its comfortable place on his face. "You know… practiced? With a girl or… a boy? Or maybe your hand?" He laughed as hard as he can shaping his hand like a set of lips and waving it towards Sam, mimicking sloppy kisses with his lips.

"Shut up!" said Sam, but then he started laughing too. They settled down a minute later, slightly panting.

Dean was surprised when Sam went for another passionate kiss. It was short, and like an adrenaline shot, but Sam pulled away.

Sam was still leaning into Dean's embrace, but his gaze was focused on a spot on the wall. He chewed his lip. This was finally sinking in. After what seemed like an eternity of yearning, Dean was finally  _his_.

And he realized he wasn't really sure what that entailed.

"Hey," Dean said, bringing Sam back to earth.

Sam looked up at Dean with wide chocolate brown eyes. And then their lips were pressed together in a much slower, gentler, sweeter kiss. Sam kept his eyes open this time, staring into Dean's clear green pools while lightly sucking at Dean's lower lip. Their noses bumped briefly and Dean smiled into the kiss. His hands migrated to Sam's lower back, resting just above the waistband of his jeans. As Dean's fingers lightly grazed the exposed skin between his pants and his tee-shirt, Sam felt a familiar tightening in his pants.

Sam gently shifted so he was straddling Dean, careful not to touch his injured leg. He cupped Dean's cheek with his hand and deepened the kiss as he shyly pressed himself into Dean.

Dean tensed at Sam's sudden weight on his hips; not because of the pain, but he was surprised. He didn't think Sam was so into this. But it felt like home, it felt like Sam belonged to him, he had to be this close at all times. He feared what it would be like if Sam was gone, but then pushed those thoughts away and responded to the kiss, grasping at Sam's lower back, clawing at his shirt.

The sting on his leg grew, but he didn't care, he never wanted this to end. He moaned into Sam's neck, sucking a hickey, and his hands went for Sam's shirt… But he stopped himself. It was too early. And he wouldn't be able to do anything with this leg anyways. So he grabbed Sam by the shoulders, and looked into his eyes. Then smiled…

"Let's have some breakfast, huh? I'm starving!" he said glancing at the coffee and donuts. "And when I'm healed… I promise Sammy, it will be so much better." He placed a gentle small kiss on Sam's lips, licking at his lower lip, and slid his hand down to get a good grab to make Sam blush before he got up and walked towards the table.

Sam sat stunned on the bed, watching his brother limp away. His cock was throbbing painfully in his too tight jeans and he was already missing the warmth of Dean's body.

He willed his erection to go away as he stood up to follow Dean.

The coffee was lukewarm by the time they drank it, so Sam just took a donut and sat down at the table.

"How does your leg feel?" he asked when he noticed Dean wincing a bit.

Dean would've given an honest answer, if it weren't for that hurt puppy look on Sam's face. It broke his heart how much he'd beaten himself up over it.

"It's getting better… At least I can walk right?" he chuckled trying to lighten up the mood. Then he turned his gaze to the donuts remembering his empty stomach, and had a huge bite on the one with the cream filling. "Mmm… I'm telling you, Sammy, these are awesome." And chewed while watching Sam eat his breakfast.

He was supposed to be in bed, at least till the stitches were removed, and Dean would've protested if didn't hurt, but damn they stung like a bitch.

So he got up, limped away to the bathroom, cleaned himself up, and limped back to bed. He was already worn out.

"Shit… The remote's all the way across the room." He looked at Sam with his innocent eyes. "Sammy? Please?" He pointed at the TV and placed his hands on his stomach expectantly, still smiling.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and tossed him the remote, but his stomach was knotting with unease. Dean looked like he was in a lot of pain. But from what Sam could see his leg looked like it was healing pretty well. The stitches were holding, and the bruises were lighter than they'd been the day before.

But the way Dean was gritting his teeth told a different story. Sam sat down next to Dean on the bed. He leaned his head onto Dean's shoulder, and was pleased when Dean's arm snaked around him.

Dean flipped the channel to reruns of some 90s show but Sam wasn't really paying attention to anything other than the gently circles Dean was rubbing into his arm. He zoned out in a comfortable trance, and pretty soon he was asleep, curled up into his brother's side.

Dean felt Sam go limp under his arm, and felt content, truly relaxed for the first time in a long time.

 _It's getting damn cold in here.._ he thought, grimacing, and pulled the comforter on the both of them. He looked at the TV blankly, still feeling cold before he dozed off into sleep.


	2. Square One

It was an uncomfortable sleep. Dean still felt cold clutching the comforter looking for more heat in his sleep, and close to midnight, one of his shivers jolted Sam awake.

Dean was burning up. He had beads of sweat spread across his forehead and his face was screwed up with pain. It was a miracle he was still sleeping. His body was shivering in all the wrong ways.

Sam, with fear surging through his veins, sat up and reached for the bottom of the bed, pulling the comforter from Dean's leg, just to see the most awful sight he'd ever seen.

Dean's leg was a bright, angry red. It was swollen and the stitches were stretches tight. Sam froze, panicking. Then he gripped Dean's shoulder and tried to shake him awake.

Dean opened his eyes slowly, blinking, and Sam felt bile rising on his throat at Dean's glazed, unfocused expression. "Dean," he pleaded. "Dean wake up. Something's wrong."

Dean shut his eyes. " 'm okay S'mmy… jus' wan' t'… sleep…" And he was out again.

Sam shook his brother, trying desperately to get him to regain consciousness without success. Dean's face was deathly pale, in complete contrast with his leg. Sam leapt from the bed and barely made it to the toilet before emptying the entire contents of his stomach. Dean's leg was infected and he was unconscious with a fever. Sam's pulse was racing with fear and he was starting to hyperventilate. He dug his fingers into the cuts on his wrists and the pain shocked him back into reality. He needed to help Dean. And quickly. He raced into the kitchen for ice and a clean wash cloth. When he returned to Dean's bedside, the sight was even worse.

Dean was limp, not even responding to the cold feel of the ice. The fever got him knocked out fast and deep, and Dad was gone.

 _Bobby…_ Sam thought. He reached for Dean's cell phone and called Bobby.

Dean emptied his stomach hanging from the side of the bed to the floor just when Bobby picked up the phone and coughed violently as if his lungs were giving up. He dropped his head back on the pillow, still not opening his eyes, and slid back into unconsciousness.

"Singer Salvage…" growled the old man on the other side of the phone.

"Bobby!" Sam cried when the man finally answered the phone. "Bobby Dad's gone and Dean's leg's infected and it's all my fault and I don't know what to do—"

Bobby cut him off. "Slow down Sam. Do you need me to come help you? I could be there in about four hours."

Sam shook his head, then realizing Bobby couldn't see him, said "no, no don't come. It's okay." but his voice cracked.

He could almost hear Bobby's eye roll. "Boy, if you need me I'll be there. This isn't your fault and it's not your responsibility. Your daddy—" he trailed off, not intending to unload his issues with John Winchester's parenting style on Sam. "If you need me to come, you just say the word, you hear?"

Sam mumbled an agreement. "I can take care of him. I'll call you if anything changes."

Bobby sighed. "Don't beat yourself up over this Sam."

Sam hung up. He slumped down on the chair next to Dean's bed.

"Sam...Mphff." Dean whispered in his sleep. Sam's eyes shot back at his brother with terror, then desperation took over.

"I need to get you antibiotics… It's my … I have to get them for you." Sam mumbled, then he took Dean's wallet and bolted out of the room.

The 24/7 pharmacy was not far. Sam jumped into a cab, and ordered the driver to floor it. By the time he got back from the pharmacy with enough antibiotics for 3 days, and ointment for his leg, and a bunch of other stuff the clerk said would help, Dean wetted all the sheets with sweat, and was mumbling Sam's name deliriously.

"Dean I'm here," Sam said, leaning over his brother. He hesitantly cupped Dean's cheek. The fever hadn't gone down any. He used the damp wash cloth to clean the sickly pus oozing from Dean's leg, and the dabbed some ointment on it. Then he tried to wake Dean up again so he could take the antibiotics. "Dean, wake up please." he begged.

"Sammy… Ow... It… hurts." Dean's eyes fluttered open, staring wearily at Sam. "Wha's goin' on?" He suddenly felt his leg's sting. It was horrible, and throbbing. Sam's eyes didn't make it better. He tried to sit up, but his elbows gave in, and he fell on his back again. "Ahh… Fuck!"

Sam launched himself forward. "Dean!"

He wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, clinging to him. Then he pulled away and reached for the bottle of pills.

"Dean, you gotta take these," he held out two pills and a glass of water.

"Wha—" Dean took the pills and the glass from Sam and forced his head up a little to swallow the pills down with water.

Sam let his head fall slowly back on the pillow. Dean was completely spent.

He drifted back to sleep, leaving Sam with utter emotional destruction. It was painfully silent apart from Dean's labored breaths settling down to normal speed.

Sam watched his brother's pained sleep until he couldn't take it anymore. He raced into the bathroom and vomited again, just bile this time since his stomach was already empty. Then he threw off his clothes and stepped into the icy cold shower.

The cuts on his arms were starting to scab, so he ripped them open again, clawing furiously with his fingernails. His blood mixed with the water, trickling down his body and then swirling into the drain. He violently scratched new wounds into his arms, digging deep red gashes.

Finally he collapsed against the wall of the shower, sinking to the ground, body trembling from the cold, and the sobs wracking through him. He buried his head in his knees, curling into a devastated ball.

If Dean didn't get better, if he didn't make it through this, Sam knew he would kill himself. Because he couldn't imagine life without his brother.

The next morning Dean seemed a little more rested. His leg was still red, yet less swollen from the last time Sam checked. His fever didn't go down, and the sheets smelled of pain blood and sweat all crumpled up beneath him.

This was going to be a hard recovery. With his mind slipping out of unconsciousness, Dean felt another wave of bile coming up his throat, and he bent towards the side of the bed at the last minute, throwing up in the trash can Sam left after he cleaned up the floor.

His breaths were still labored, and he felt the pain in his bones.  _Fucking poltergeist…_ he thought, before slowly opening his eyes to look for Sam.

Sam heard his brother moving about restlessly in the bed from his position where he was slumped against the bathroom door. He tugged on his jeans and a clean shirt and opened the door.

"Dean, you're awake." He croaked, his voice raw from sobbing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, bloodshot eyes ringed in dark shadows, and he cringed. He didn't want Dean to see him like this. He pulled his sleeves down further over his arms and kept a safe distance between him and Dean. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

"Oh fuck…Sammy, there you are. I-I don't know... Maybe a little better. But-but it hurts like a bitch. Shit…" Dean let a slight growl escape from his lips.

He needed water; his throat was almost too dry to gulp. "You mind...need…water."

"You… you look t-terrible." he gasped out taking a good look at his brother. "Don't worry Sammy, I-I'll be fine."

Sam clenched his fists. There Dean went again, putting Sam before himself. Sam chewed on his lip as he reached for the glass to refill it. As he filled the glass from the tap he swallowed the lump in his throat. Then he returned to his brother.

"Of course I'm going to worry about you Dean. You have an infection. You've been unconscious for almost a whole  _day_. Dammit Dean, don't say this isn't my fault. Because it  _is_ my fault. If I had taken better care of you, this wouldn't have happened." He looked down at the floor. Then he said quietly, desperation showing through in his voice, "Just get better okay?" He sat down on Dean's bed, and reached up to lay a hand on his forehead.

Then he noticed that some of the blood had seeped through his shirt sleeve. He yanked his arm back in terror, hoping that Dean didn't notice.

"Wha— Sammy… Wh-why did you pull away? What's wrong? T-tell me…" Then Dean took a big sip of water and felt his throat ease up.

He looked at Sam waiting for a response through hazy eyes. "C'mere, sit down, and tell me dammit. Don't do this to me, just… just tell me." Dean was still worried about Sam in this condition.

Flesh wounds healed, eventually. But the wounds this life gave, they became permanent if they weren't dealt with. He knew… from mom… He knew that's why Dad was like this.

Sam reached forward with his other arm, checking to see that the sleeve was clean before resting his hand on Dean's cheek. He leaned towards Dean. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. I just need you to get better, okay?"

He rested his forehead against Dean's.

"I need you okay, Sammy." Dean pressed his lips on Sam's giving a silent reassurance.

Then his head fell back on the pillow. Dean had a half-smile on his lips. "I just need a little more sleep… Then I'll be fine too."

He cupped Sam's cheek with his hand, brushing his thumb on Sam's flushed skin. Then he closed his eyes, and let sleep claim him.

And Sam believed Dean would be okay. His fever was a little down, and he didn't shiver that much anymore. Dean slept through that night too, only waking up for the pills and the little food he failed to keep down.

He didn't know he had to go through one more big fever stroke before the infection cleared out, so he kept reassuring Sam with sweet words. But he had no clue what was coming to him.

Sam fell asleep curled up against Dean's side again. And again he was awoken in the middle of the night by Dean's violent shaking. Dean was on fire. Sam leapt away from him, terrified that his body heat would contribute to Dean's fever. He shook his brother's shoulder to wake him, but Dean was so far gone in the fever that nothing would work.

He thought about calling Bobby, but it was the middle of the night and he didn't want to bother him. So instead he iced Dean's leg, and rubbed his shoulders soothingly, mumbling Dean's name over and over mixed with pleases and I love yous.

Apparently it had to get worse before it got better. Dean was dehydrated, he was constantly sweating and the sheets were a mess. The walls smelled of sickness and guilt.

Dean never woke up that night. His fever didn't go down, and he left Sam alone with the real world.

He didn't wake up till the next day, around 5 pm. He was shaking violently, and his stomach was fighting him to throw up what was left in him, which was nothing because Dean didn't eat anything for a day and a half. But at least his fever was going down. His violent shakes were only his muscles trying to fight off the last remnants of the infection.

Sam looked awful.  _All this time I was out, you didn't sleep a bit did you Sammy? Why do you do this to yourself?_ he thought as he tried to put on a brave face for his little brother.

He reached to his side to get the two pills Sam left for him, and downed them with water. He relaxed on the bed, and pulled the sheets aside to get a look at his leg. The swelling was almost gone, and the puss was cleared out. But most of all, the redness was wearing off, and the stitches made it through.

He let out a relieved sigh; finally, he could say something promising to Sam.

"See, Sammy, I told you I'd make it." He grinned. He would make it, and he would get up on his feet, and hold him till the black circles around Sam's eyes were gone.

Sam leaped from the chair and threw his arms around Dean. He couldn't speak. He had so many things to say to Dean but he couldn't formulate words around his tears. His throat was raw and painful as he hiccupped sobs of relief. He buried his face into Dean's neck, squeezing his eyes shut and just letting himself be surrounded by Dean.

His arms were rubbing painfully against his sleeves but he didn't even notice. All he could feel was Dean, comfortably warm against his skin, not burning hot like he'd been for the past few days.

Sam finally lifted his head to look at Dean.

"I love you," he sniffed, furiously wiping the tears away.

"Love you too Sammy. Don't be so hard on yourself, okay?" Then Dean held Sam till his muffled sobs slowly settled.

His hand went through Sam's dark locks, sweeping away the misery of the last week. "Shh... 'S okay. We'll be fine." Those words were the only ones that came to Dean's mind. He sincerely believed what he said, Sam wasn't hurt, and he was healing. Everything would be alright.

They spent the rest of the day in bed, Sam's torso leaning on Dean's, their limbs all tangled up carefully not to hurt Dean's leg. It was quiet aside from the occasional noise from the TV. They didn't need to speak to talk to each other. Their bodies worked just fine, telling each other things would be better.

Sam was careful to keep his forearms from rubbing against anything. Dean didn't need to know about that. Dean was getting better now and that was all that mattered. This would just be another unnecessary worry if he found out. He would just keep his cuts hidden from Dean until they healed, and it would all be fine.

It was about nine pm when the phone rang. Sam and Dean both sat up, startled. They'd sort of forgotten that the world existed outside of their bed. Sam looked at Dean, eyes wide, and then picked up the phone.

"Hello?" He braced himself, futilely hoping it was Bobby.

"Sam. It's your father. How's Dean?"

Sam cringed.

"He's good—"

John cut him off. "Let me talk to him."

Sam sighed and passed the phone over to Dean. Of course Dad was still mad at him, and rightfully so.

Dean winced when Sam's face went from peaceful to devastated in a second. Only two people had that kind of effect on him, and Dean hadn't done anything.

He took the phone, "Hey Dad." he said knowing that it was their father.

"Dean, how's your leg? Is everything okay?" John said in his serious tone.

"I'm fine, the stitches are holding well, and Sammy's been taking good care of me." Dean said, smiling at Sam.

"Well, I'm going to be here for another few days, the job is going to take longer than I thought. Be safe, take care of each other." John hung up without letting Dean answer.

"Yes, sir..." he mumbled into the line with no recipient. Then he tossed the phone, and took a look at Sam. He looked worried, and tired.

"Is he coming back?" Sam chewed his lip.

Dean shook his head. "Not for a few days."

Sam let out a breath of obvious relief and squeezed his arms around Dean's waist, not caring that they stung from the contact. He really didn't want to see his father. He and Dean were doing so well, Dad would just ruin it. Sam would be stressed, Dean would go into perfect son mode, and this--whatever this was--would be pushed to the back burner.

Sam's face was pressed into Dean's shirt and he grimaced.

"You need a shower, dude," he laughed, wrinkling his nose. "Let me fill up the tub for you."

"Oh god, yes! I feel like a dog, man!" Dean laughed with his head arched back. Then he looked at Sam, he had the best idea.

"You… kinda smell too Sammy. But we don't wanna waste a lot of water… do we?" he said darkly, a smirk on his face, tearing Sam's clothes with his eyes.

He took off his shirt where he sat, and waited for Sam to make his move.

Sam blanched and inched unconsciously away from Dean.

"I-I just showered earlier today. You go ahead. Um. I'll just go… Get the tub ready…"

He couldn't. He couldn't do this to Dean. Dean was still healing. He didn't need to have Sam's issues dumped on him as well.

"Way to rain on my parade dude…" Dean limped his way to the bathroom after Sam, pouting.

"Would you at least help me get in the tub?" Dean stripped himself of his boxers, standing completely naked in front of Sam, leaning on the wall, taking the weight off his gimp leg. "Sammy…" He had that seductive smile again, trying to get the slightest reaction from Sam.

Sam was awestruck. Dean, standing there, without a care in the world, staring at Sam. He was beautiful. His chest had the same freckles his nose and cheeks had, but even more spread. His arms were perfectly shaped, his stomach was made on God's spare day. Sam couldn't bring himself to look below the golden hair getting thicker below his belly button.

He turned his head shyly, his cheeks flushing red. "Come o-on Dean, let's get you cleaned up before I do something r-reckless."

Dean slowly walked up to Sam; grabbed him by the waist. Then he pulled Sam closer in for a burning kiss, their bodies pressed up against each other. He played around Sam's hemline lifting the shirt a little to feel Sam's skin.

He broke away for a breath, and willed his half erection away. "Fuck... Sammy. I was expecting more from bath time. But if you're not joining, then it's no fun. Help me get in."

He put his healthy leg in first quickly transferring his weight onto it, feeling his balance was a little off, so he grabbed Sam by the arm not to fall.

But Sam whimpered, and let out a shriek. His shirt slowly soaked up the blood under it and Dean saw it. Saw them… Many little spots of blood spread across where he grabbed.

Sam yanked his arm back from Dean, turning his head away. His pulse was racing and he was about to hyperventilate again. He tried to take a deep breath, but couldn't get enough air into his choked throat.

"Sam?" Dean called out to him. "What happened?"

Sam didn't turn around, barely managed to shake his head.

"Sam, let me see," Dean persisted.

"No." Sam finally spoke, too loudly. He turned to look at his brother, leaning precariously against the shower wall. He swallowed. "I'm fine. Just—don't." He reached out for Dean to help him into the tub. The blood on his sleeve was angrily visible. Dean looked at Sam with pained eyes and Sam had to pull away again.

"I-I'll be in the bedroom. Call me if you need anything." And he raced from the bathroom, collapsing on the bed.

Dean sat in the tub, not bothering to rinse or grab the soap. He just sat there, and relived every second of that day over and over again. Did Sam get hurt? Why didn't Dean notice? Did something happen while he was out with the fever? He sat in silence and anguish, deep in thought. He could hear Sam sob in the other room, he just couldn't bring himself to get up and go there. It was probably his fault. Sam got hurt and Dean didn't even notice.

Suddenly his heart filled with pain.  _How could I be so self-absorbed? Why the fuck didn't I notice? Why didn't he show me?_

The water got cold around him. He shook his head, trying to get rid of all the questions in his head. Quickly he helped himself out of the tub, holding onto the side, slowly, then grabbed the towel, hung it loosely around his waist and made his way to the bedroom.

Sam was on his bed, head buried in the pillow, his back shaking with painful sobs. Dean sat beside him, and put a hand on his back. "Let me see, Sammy. Please. I-I'm so sorry."

Sam stared up at Dean with heavy lids. "Just stop, okay?"

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "It's not your fault. It's not important." He took a breath. "Just. Stop. Stop being... Stop being fucking perfect. You're hurt, and you're still just worrying about me. I'm not worth it!" he sobbed.

Then he sank back against the headboard, exhausted and hiccupping for breath.

"You stop! You don't even know what you're talking about! What the fuck does I'm not worth it even mean?" Dean was furious. He wished Sam could see himself from his eyes. "Just… I want to see it, Sam. You are showing it to me. Maybe it needs patching up…" He grabbed Sam's hand, ignoring his struggle to get away, and pushed the sleeves up his arm.

There were many scars, some beginning to heal, some still bleeding a little. They were too "in order" and neat to be monster claws. They looked like they came from a blade.

Then it hit Dean. He looked at Sam with terror in his eyes. He was rendered speechless. "How-… w-why?" Then Dean's eyes started to tear up against his will, he tried to shake the tears away, but he couldn't stop the new ones forming on his eyes. A few of them fell on his face, making a sad trail across his face. Dean sat there, still holding Sam's hand.

Sam's hand went limp in Dean's and his eyes had a glassy unfocused look. He felt numb. Now Dean knew, there was nothing he could do. He painfully met Dean's pleading gaze.

"It wasn't your fault." he choked. "Do not think that. I fucked up Dean. I'm sorry. I'm so. Sorry."

He tried to roll down his sleeve but Dean stopped him.

"You… you were trying to punish yourself… No. Sammy... Oh no! You didn't have to do that! It wasn't your fault either, fuck what Dad thinks, fuck that poltergeist, fuck me for not taking better care of myself, but not you Sam. It can never be your fault…"

He bowed his head down, and kissed the scars. Over and over again, hoping that they would go away… They didn't, but the look on Sam's face was getting softer and softer.

He turned Sam around to hug him, he buried his face between Sam's locks and whispered "It's okay Sammy… I don't want you doing that, ever again. It was not your fault. Please don't do that. Please Sammy."

Then he backed away just enough to let them breathe the same air. One little inch forward, and Dean was crushing on Sam's lips, kissing the pain away.

Sam let himself sink into the kiss, clinging to Dean with every bit of his remaining strength. He didn't deserve this comfort, but it felt so good and so safe.

He pulled away when his sobs finally subsided. He looked up into Dean's eyes and saw that their bright green was clouded by tears. "I'm sorry," he mumbled again, nuzzling into Dean's chest. Then after a beat he deadpanned, "You must think I'm so weak."

"No, that's not it. I'm pissed. I'm pissed at you for hurting the thing I love most in the world. Do you know how I feel when I see you hurt? It's torture. I don't want you doing it again, okay? I'm serious." Dean dictated in a soft voice. Sam's eyes were dagger after dagger to the chest.

Then he held Sam as tight as he could, and dragged his feet up inside the bed. He brushed his hand on Sam's face to clean up the tears, and didn't let go of Sam for minutes. "I love you, Sam." he whispered into Sam's ear.

And Sam believed him, finally. He curled into Dean as Dean's lips trailed down from his lips to his jaw to his neck to his collarbone. Dean's skilled fingers slipped under Sam's shirt, tracing the firm lines of his muscles up to his chest.

"Off," he demanded, and Sam obeyed, yanking the shirt over his head. Dean's lips trailed down further, tongue darting over Sam's nipple, sending a pleasant shiver through his body. He clutched Dean's waist, dragging their bodies even closer together. His half hard erection nudged Dean's stomach through his jeans. Dean sucked a deep purple bruise into Sam's chest as he undid Sam's belt and slid his hands under the waistband.

Sam's breaths were coming in shallow pants. He gasped when Dean pushed his jeans down over his slender hips.

"Are you...are you sure?" he whispered.

Dean looked up, brows furrowed in a question.

"Your leg," Sam clarified.

Dean kissed Sam's jaw. "I can do this."

His hand trailed down over Sam's hipbone then palmed his erection through his boxers. Sam arched into Dean's touch, instantly hardening.

"Dean," Sam breathed as Dean pulled down his boxers.

And then Dean's lips were on his, and Dean's hand was stroking his swelling cock, and Sam pressed himself into Dean, one hand gripping his shoulder blade and the other running through his short hair as he deepened the kiss.

Sam's breathing sped up as Dean brought him closer to climax. He thrust into Dean's hand, and Dean stroked faster. Sam's hips bucked and he bit down on Dean's lip as he came silently over Dean's hand and stomach.

And suddenly Sam was crying again. Dean looked terrified for a moment but Sam smiled weakly through the tears letting Dean know he was just as lost as he was. And then they were both laughing, and kissing, and clinging to each other as if the world was going to end.

Sam looked down at the sticky mess between them and chuckled, "I'll, um, take you up on that bath now if you want."

"Ahh... That's my Sammy. Up." he licked at Sam's lips one more time before letting him get up. He followed Sam to the bathroom when he heard the water shut off after Sam refilled it. Sam might've gotten his release, but Dean still had it hard as rock, and it needed attention.

"Alright, Sammy, in you go." Sam looked at him puzzled. " And spread your legs, I'm coming in." Sam chuckled and got in the tub, his back resting on the curvy side, and spread his legs. Dean waited for a moment taking the sight in, licked his lips.

"Fuck Sam, when did you get all hot and stuff?" Dean smirked before he got in, and sat between Sam's legs. He rested his back on Sam's chest and let out a happy moan.

"Is it my turn yet?" Sam whispered into Dean's ear, his breath brushing on Dean's neck, leaving a slight ticklish pleasure behind.

"Go for it, brother." Dean said and let his head take its rightful place on Sam's shoulder.

Sam started below Dean's jaw, and kissed his way to his ear, nipping on his earlobe, eliciting low moans from Dean. He sucked a purple bruise on Dean's neck, while his hands worked on Dean's chest, exploring every inch of his brother's torso, inscribing it into his mind. He looked at the bruise, satisfied that it looked just like the one on his own chest. He placed a gentle kiss on it, and then made his way to the place his neck and shoulders met. That was the spot, Dean gasped with pleasure.

Then Dean took Sam's hand, and helped him find its way to his cock, he couldn't wait much longer. "Mmhh Sammy, who would've guessed you were so good with your lips…"

Sam took Dean's cock, and grabbed it by the shaft, giving a firm squeeze that made him arch towards Sam's chest. He found a teasing rhythm as his other hand traveled down to sink his nails in Dean's inner thigh. That made Dean's cock twitch and Sam picked up speed. "Aahh… So fuckin' good."

Dean's hands were on Sam's legs, squeezing hard as Sam continued to pump him. Sam's thumb brushed Dean's slit from time to time, knowing well that Dean was building up to an amazing orgasm.

Then Sam bit down on Dean's neck, drawing a little blood. "Ah… fuck Sam! 'M close, baby. C-C'mon…"

"Okay, Dean, come for me… Big brother… Come for me.." Sam whispered as he pumped Dean's cock harder and faster strengthening his grip on Dean's inner thigh.

"Aaahhh! Sam... Fuck!" Dean came twitching and shivering, Sam's hand still pumping him, increasing his pleasure.

Dean's eyes rolled back to his head, his lips gasping for air as waves of his orgasm shot down his spine and he threw his head back.

"Dean… perfect…" Sam smiled, and grabbed Dean's jaw, turning it towards his face and kissing them deeply as his other hand milked Dean.

"Sam… That... T-that was fucking a-amazing." Dean relaxed into Sam's embrace, the death grip on Sam's legs softened and Dean mumbled into his mouth, showing his appreciation. They sat there for a while, riding out the waves of pleasure, still tickling Dean's senses.

Sam reached for the soap and a fresh wash cloth. He gently rubbed it over Dean's torso, then down over his thighs, avoiding Dean's injured leg. Seeing Dean sitting there, so peaceful and delightfully exhausted, gave Sam a warm bubbly feeling deep in his stomach. This was his, and his only. And no one could take that away. Not even Dad.

He blanched, thinking about their father, and how he would probably be home soon. Dean saw the fear that flashed in his eyes and cocked his head. "What's wrong, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing." He leaned into Dean's embrace. "Don't ever leave me," he mumbled almost inaudibly into Dean's neck.

"Never." Dean went for a comforting kiss, covering Sam's lips with his own for a brief moment. Then he broke away and looked at Sam. "But you gotta talk to me Sam. I don't want…this ever happening again." Dean tilted his head over to Sam's arm.

"Is it... Dad?" Dean was tiptoeing around the subject not wanting to trigger anything.

Sam drew his arms back from Dean, folding them self-consciously across his chest. Then he shook his head. "No. It's not that. I-I don't want to talk about it. But I promise it won't happen again, okay?"

Dean wouldn't understand. Dean wouldn't have any idea what it felt like to be the fuck-up. Dean was Dad's perfect son, and Sam was… well, clearly Sam couldn't be counted on for shit. And even though Dean was telling him everything was going to be okay, Sam just couldn't believe it. So he would just make promises that he didn't know if he could keep and try to push it all under the rug. Because that's how a good Winchester would handle things.

"Okay?" he asked again when Dean didn't respond.

"No, not okay." Dean looked at him with a frown. "Look Sam. I will engrave this into your thick head if I have to. Dad's standards... they're different. He doesn't know any better. We are allowed to make stupid mistakes sometimes. It was your first hunt, and you did better than me okay? Don't beat yourself up over it. I almost got Dad killed on my first hunt. Well… I wasn't going to tell you this, but I fucked up pretty bad." Dean looked away, then continued: "Let's get out of the tub, my fingers are getting wrinkly."

Without letting Sam say a word, Dean got out of the tub, and hung a towel loosely below his hemline. "Come on, Sammy, I have one more thing in mind before Dad gets back." He grinned at Sam and limped his way to the bedroom, leaving Sam with an open mouth.

Sam snatched up a towel and hurried after him. What Dean had said had rocked him. He remembered Dean's first hunt. Well, he remembered Dean coming back, bruised and a little shell-shocked, but generally okay. Dad on the other hand had a nasty gash on his side that put him out of commission for a few weeks.

Had that really been Dean's fault? He frowned. Why hadn't Dean told him?

Sam pushed it out of his mind and walked into the bedroom.

Dean was standing next to the bed. One hand holding his towel, the other ordering Sam to come closer. "You ready for round two li'l brother?" He chuckled.

Sam shot a joyful smile, and came closer, held onto Dean's waist.

Dean grabbed him by the neck, and pulled him in, hard, for one hell of a kiss. He demanded entry and Sam opened up his mouth. Their tongues fought for dominance and they explored the warmth of each other's mouth, deep and hungry. Dean bit at Sam's lower lip, and Sam sucked at Dean's. Dean was hard that instant. They were breathless, with dark passionate eyes looking for more. Dean was surprised at the obviously enormous effect Sam had on him. But they had enough chick flick moments, and Dean was determined to make this the night Sam forgot all about the scars and the mistakes and just focus on the pleasure.

"Drop the towel, Sammy." Dean growled. "On your knees." He threw away his own towel, and looked at Sam with a demanding grin.

Sam sank obediently to the ground in front of Dean. He reached up and gripped Dean's hips tentatively. He kissed the inside of Dean's thigh, looking up at Dean for approval. Dean's eyes were blown wide with pleasure so Sam continued.

He had no idea what he was doing. The only experience he had with this was some pay-per-view videos on a staticy motel TW, and the one time he walked in on Dean with some girl and promptly walked out and vomited.

Now he tentatively trailed his mouth down Dean's length, before taking the head into his mouth. Dean's hand found its way into Sam's hair guiding his head lightly forward. He swirled his tongue around Dean's cock and bobbed his head up and down. Dean groaned and his hips bucked forward into Sam's mouth.

"Shit sorry," he muttered when Sam gagged. Sam only sucked harder, taking as much of Dean into his mouth as he could. "S-Sam!" Dean sputtered. Sam pulled back just as Dean bucked forward again and came, shooting hot spurts onto his lips and chin. Sam licked his lips, swallowing Dean's cum. Dean pulled Sam up and kissed him, wiping the cum off his chin with his thumb.

Then he turned and pushed Sam back against the bed, palming his throbbing cock.

"You don't get to come till I say so Sammy." He covered one of Sam's nipples, and sucked hard, twirling his tongue with a painful pace. He was going to draw out every type of moan and groan from Sam.

The first gasp of air, and moan came when he popped his lips and let go of Sam's nipple, swollen and red.

He licked a line down Sam's chest and Sam's hand shot up to grab a handful of Dean's spiked hair. Dean was just beginning.

He bit down at Sam's chest, leaving small flushed marks down to his stomach. "These are the only marks you get to carry Sam." he dictated. And he made his way down to Sam's cock. It was throbbing hard and resting on his stomach twitching at Dean's claiming touches.

He spread Sam's legs, and kissed Sam's inner thigh, sucking and listening for Sam's breathing.

Sam was so lost in it, his body was arched back, and his hands had a death grip on the sheets below. "Aaah! Dean, fuck! Please, just please… Lemme... please! Ohh fuck!"

Dean finally grabbed the head of Sam's cock, and held it tight. His tongue starting at his balls, made his way up, giving a strong twirl around the slit as Sam's body shot tense at the sensation. "Aaahh! Dean!" he pleaded, and Dean's cock twitched at Sam's cracked voice begging for more.

Then he took Sam in, all the way to the base of his shaft and held it there as Sam tried to buck forward. He bobbed his head up and down, eliciting near-screams out of Sam and and popped his lips again at the head, before going all the way in again.

He felt Sam building up, and gripped the base of Sam's cock, "Not yet, Sammy, just let me taste you a little more." Then he sank back in between Sam's thighs taking all the pleas in as Sam begged for release.

He continued to bob is head up and down, then he stopped and said "Beg for it Sammy." And he took Sam's cock back in his mouth.

"D-Dean… Please... just let me come, please… Aahhh please Dean!" Sam yelled and Dean let go of the hand that was holding Sam's cum back, sucking hard on the cock.

Sam bucked his hips forward down Dean's throat, and came with spurts of his seed shooting down Dean's throat. Dean continued to suck and swallowed Sam's cum.

Sam was completely wasted, shivering on the bed, his toes curled up; sweating all over the sheets he'd practically ripped.

Dean let go of Sam's cock, and climbed up with him to hold him through his afterwaves. It was unimaginable. Sam buried his face in Dean's chest and whispered "I want you, D-Dean. In me…"

Dean's cock twitched. "Sam," he managed to gasp. "Sammy are you sure?"

Sam nodded. "I need you."

Dean kept hold of Sam with one arm and with the other reached over to the nightstand for lube. He held Sam close and repositioned him on the bed, trying to find the most comfortable position for both of them, something that wouldn't hurt his leg but would be easy for Sam's first time. He ended up sitting against the headboard with Sam on his knees, straddling over him. He kissed Sam again, one hand snaking around Sam's waist and down to the cleft between his cheeks. Sam's eyes went wide and he leaned into Dean's chest when Dean's finger glanced over his tight hole. Dean pulled his hand back and squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. The he held Sam steady with one hand while the other traced around his hole.

"Ready?" he asked huskily. Sam nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Dean's finger slipped inside.

Dean stopped when he reached the first ring of muscle slowly proceeded to push past it waiting for Sam to adjust, he went deeper, and Sam relaxed into one finger. Then Dean added another finger, and the friction was bigger, but Sam seemed to take it well, so Dean pulled them out and pushed them back in a few times to get Sam to fully adjust, accompanied by his slow happy whimpers.

After the 3rd finger, Sam was opened up; his forehead pressed against Dean's, breathing heavily.

"You okay?" Dean whispered.

"I'm fine." Sam answered realizing the different feeling in his body. Dean squeezed a generous amount of lube on his hand, and covered his cock.

"Okay… I'm gonna go slow, you just… Ah… Sammy, you're so tight around me." Dean whispered as he pushed Sam's hips down and had the head of his cock inside Sam.

He slowly pushed deeper down as Sam's body arched forward and their lips met.

Dean was filling Sam, completely and it felt so different, so amazing. Sam grabbed Dean's head and kissed deeper.

At that moment, Dean steered Sam's hips up and down, his own hips bucking forward. "C'mon, Sam, move for me baby." Dean whispered.

Sam braced his hands on Dean's shoulders staring into his eyes with unbridled desire. The sounds he was making were driving Dean wild. Dean's eyes rolled skyward as Sam moved his hips, pushing himself even further onto Dean. He let Dean guide him up and down, his dick pressed comfortably against Dean's stomach.

Dean's breath hitched in his throat as Sam's muscles clenched and unclenched around him. Sam groaned and bowed his forehead against Dean's as Dean's cock rubbed against his prostate. "N-need... to..." he stuttered, "Need to c-come D-Dean!"

Dean kept one hand steady on Sam's hip and reached forward with the other to help his brother. He pumped in time with Sam's movements. As he felt Sam nearing his climax, it set him over the edge. He gave one last thrust upwards and came hard inside Sam, sinking back into the bed as he brought Sam to orgasm. Sam screamed out as he came and collapsed on top of Dean.

Sam lay draped over Dean, panting. He wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and laid his head over Dean's heart, whose beat matched his own rapid one. They lay immobile for what seemed like ages until Dean gently lifted Sam up and pulled out of him. Sam grimaced at the friction against his already raw skin, but Dean kissed him and pulled him snug against his body, and it was okay.

They fell asleep with what seemed like the safest feeling in the world. They could've been a war going outside, and they wouldn't even hear a thing. Their bodies warmed each other as they slept.


	3. Fix You

Sam was the first one to wake up. His eyes shot open, afraid that last night was just a dream. It took a moment to realize; but there he was, in Dean's arms, his breath slowly crashing against Dean's chest. He relaxed into Dean's limp embrace and pulled himself closer slowly to bury his face into Dean's smell.

Dean's eyes fluttered open at the movement and he sleepily smiled at Sam before tightening his embrace around him.

"Mornin' Sammy." he said drowsily.

"Mornin' Dean." Sam replied, with the most joyful tone he could imagine. Dean laughed at Sam's ecstatic reply and tilted his head forward for an "I know, I'm happy as hell too." kiss.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Neither of them wanted to get out of bed. And they were both startled by the phone; they had forgotten that the outside world existed.

Dean reached over Sam to grab the phone, and looked at the screen to see Dad's number. He quickly sat up in bed, and answered the phone, looking at Sam.

"Mornin' Dean. Are you boys doing okay? How's the leg?" John lined up the questions.

"I'm okay sir. My leg is almost healed. We're doing fine…. Dad, are you coming back?" Dean said, seeing Sam flinch at the word "Dad".

"Yes, I'll be there around noon. Maybe a little later. See you boys soon." Then John hung up.

Sam sat up in bed, his face had no trace of the bliss he had this morning. "Is he coming back today?" he asked. He needed more time. He wasn't ready to be hated just yet.

"Yeah. Said he'll be here around noon." Dean replied, trailing a hand down Sam's arm. He wasn't going to let Sam do this again, no matter what Dad said or did.

Dean ran his fingers through Sam's sleep-matted hair.

"Hey. Talk to me," he whispered into Sam's forehead. "Let me help, baby."

Sam shook his head.

Dean twined his fingers into Sam's and squeezed his hand. Sam limply submitted himself to Dean's caresses, but gave nothing of his own. His eyes were glazed over and he was lost in his head. He needed more time with Dean. He needed Dean to convince him that Dad didn't matter, that he couldn't come between them.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Sam said finally, pushing himself away from Dean. Dean's face darkened.

"Sam…" he pleaded, starting to get up.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't need a  _babysitter_ , Dean. I'm not going to  _do_  anything."

Dean watched him go, heart sinking. He couldn't bear seeing what Dad did to Sam. And the man wasn't even home yet.

Sam leaned over the bathroom sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looked horrible. His eyes were still bloodshot and dried tears tracked down his cheeks. The cuts on his arm were scabbing over, but still an angry red. He stared at them, mesmerized. Only Dean could make it better, and that would be hard once Dad came home.

Sam turned on the shower and stepped inside.

Dean wanted to punch a hole through the wall. He'd never been so useless. He wanted to help Sam understand, comfort him with all he's got, but he didn't know how, and he surely wasn't going to sit there and watch as Sam hacked himself open.

Dean slowly got up, and limped his way to the bathroom door. He stood there in silence for a minute there, his ears searching for a sign of "wrong" but there was nothing. Water was running, and there was the occasional splash that convinced Dean that Sam was under it. He slowly opened the door, and stepped inside the shower with Sam.

Sam tried to protest, but Dean silenced him with a tender kiss. Then he turned around, got the soap and lathered his hands and ran them across Sam's chest. He slowly washed Sam of his tenseness. They were completely silent as Dean took care of Sam. He got some shampoo in his hands, and grabbed handfuls of Sam's hair, moving them to spread evenly and make bubbles. Sam held onto Dean like a lifeline while he watched Dean's eyes jump from one part of Sam's body to another, as loving as possible. Then he turned Sam around, and lathered his shoulders, moving along his back to Sam's ass. He never tried for a move, Sam needed to be taken care of now, he needed to know that Dean would be there, protecting him, taking care of him, no matter what. Then he placed a kiss behind Sam's neck and hugged him from behind.

"I'm here Sammy, I'll never leave you, I won't let anybody or anything hurt you. I swear. Do you understand?"

Sam nodded, leaning back into Dean. This was good. This here was safe. He placed his hands over Dean's which were wrapped around his middle and held them tight against his skin. He leaned his head back onto Dean's shoulder as Dean sucked gently at his neck and the sensitive area behind his ear.

"Mine," Dean mumbled softly against his skin, and Sam felt butterflies. They stayed like that until the water got cold, and then got out of the shower and toweled each other dry.

Sam glanced at the clock and his stomach dropped. It was already eleven, and Dad could be home any moment. He latched himself onto Dean as the panic rose up in his chest. His stomach flipped and his throat felt too tight.

Dean rubbed slow circles on his back and murmured comforting words in his ear that Sam couldn't even understand, but it didn't matter because Dean's voice was enough to calm him down. When the anxiety subsided a little, Sam took a deep breath. "I'll be fine," he said, more to himself than to Dean. "Whatever happens, I can do this." Then his confidence faltered. "Right?" he asked his brother.

Dean squeezed him impossibly tight. "Yes. Yes of course Sammy. You're strong. And even if it gets hard, you have me. You'll always have me."

Sam nodded. "I know." And hopefully it would be enough, because at that moment he heard the truck engine pull up outside. He snatched one last kiss from Dean and then they pulled apart.

A strong knock shook the door, and Dean leapt forward to open it. With his duffel in his grip, John walked past Dean and threw the duffel on his bed, the one that wasn't even touched since he left.

"Hello boys. Dean, lemme see the leg." John moved right onto the stuff that made Sam flinch. He didn't lose any time making him uncomfortable. Dean smiled warmly at Sam and sat on his own bed, lifting his leg up to rest on the bed with him, and John came closer, and took a look. "Looks okay. You still should wait a while before you hunt again though." Then he glared at Sam, and Sam's walls came tumbling down. He was shaking, crushed under his father's stare. The insecurity came in and filled him up. His eyes started tearing up.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. I'll b-be more careful next time." The words came out as cries for help. He looked at Dean hopelessly.

Then John spoke again, and Sam's eyes shot back at him. "I'm gonna take a shower. Then me and Sam will go out and get us some food."

After informing his soldiers about what awaited them, John proceeded to walk in to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. The sound of the lock turning gave Dean the signal to run to Sam.

He didn't say anything, he just wrapped his arms around the shaking figure of his brother. A moment later he whispered "I'm here Sammy, nothing's gonna happen to you, you'll be fine. We're okay. We're gonna be okay." He tilted Sam's head up to face him "Listen to me," he placed a small kiss on Sam's lips "We're okay." and he hugged tighter, but Sam was not responding.

Sam's walls were up again. He let Dean embrace him, but he got no comfort from it. He wanted to, really, but Dad was just behind the door and Sam was overwhelmed by fear and anger and guilt. Dean stroked his hair and rubbed circles into his shoulders, mumbling about how it would be okay. He tried to kiss Sam again, but Sam shook his head.

"Dean, stop," he muttered, pulling away.

Dean froze. His hands dropped to his sides.

Sam winced and looked up at Dean, pleading. "It's just… I know you want to make everything better, but Dad… Dad's not going to change. So I just gotta deal with that, okay?"

"But… Okay, Sammy, but— just, promise me you won't do anything that might hurt you in the long run when you talk to Dad today. Okay? I need you with me. Healthy!" Dean emphasized. He hated his gimp leg, he wanted to be there for Sam today. Dad was surely gonna give a long boring speech about the life they had and the dangers and the responsibilities and stuff, and Sam was not ready to take it yet. It was only going to make him feel more guilty about Dean's injury.

Sam flinched when John came out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go. He tilted his head towards the door and Sam followed him out, a broken smile on his face as he shut the door, leaving Dean behind. He couldn't even pace around in the room, and Dean felt like a caged animal.

He tried to relax and wait for them watching TV.

Sam followed is father out to the truck, staring determinedly at the ground.

The first thing his father said to him surprised him.

"I'm not mad at you Sam."

Sam looked up, brow furrowed.

"I know that's what you're thinking," his father continued. "I'm not mad. It was your first hunt without me. It's completely understandable that something like this would happen."

And there it was. Sam had known not to get his hopes up. Sure his father wasn't mad, he wasn't even disappointed. Because he'd  _known_  that Sam would fuck up. Sam hadn't failed his father's expectations, he'd fucking lived up to them exactly.

He clenched his fists, digging his nails hard enough into his palm to leave a mark. "I'm sorry, Dad," he mumbled, because he had to, "I promise I'll be better next time."

His father stared out at the road, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "I think it will be a while before there is a next time."

Sam was cold inside when they arrived at the convenience store. He excused himself from his father to go to the bathroom. As soon as he locked the door, he sank down to the floor. Dean had said not to let his father get to him, not to hurt himself, but he couldn't help it. Because if he didn't do this, then he would start crying. And fuck if he would let his father see that.

He pulled the knife out of his back pocket and opened up three new cuts in his forearm. Then he straightened his shirt and returned to his father. They bought dinner in silence, Sam studiously avoiding his father's gaze.

He went through the motions on autopilot, not emerging from his stupor until the truck pulled up into the motel parking lot.

Dean shot up in bed when he heard the truck. He stayed on the bed, eyes locked on the door. Then the door opened and John walked in with the food. Sam was behind him, eyes looking down, and he was paler. Dean knew, that moment, that something had happened. He hoped that it hadn't gone that far to make Sam cut again. But he had to wait to find out.

They sat silently at the table, and ate. Sam wasn't looking at Dean. He knew Dean was constantly searching for reactions but he didn't have the strength to give any.

Afterwards, they cleaned the guns, again in silence, and counted ammo. Sam's hands were sloppy, Dean had to catch a few bullets in the air when they rolled off the bed.

It got dark outside, and still there was no talking other than a few one-syllable words and grunts.

Then John got up, and walked towards his jacket. "I'm gonna go have a drink. Dean you coming?" he asked without any real meaning behind it.

"No, Dad, I think I'm gonna stay in." Dean replied.

John nodded once, and left the room without a second word.

They were alone again, and Dean was anxious to find out what happened. He got up and sat beside Sam on his bed, and brushed a hand across his back. "What happened Sammy, tell me." he mumbled. "Did Dad give one of those hour long you're not taking your responsibilities seriously speech?" He was desperate to get one little answer from him, anything… But Sam was quiet. It was like he shut himself down. Dean's hand traveled down Sam's arm, and pulled the sleeve up to check.

Three red marks…. staring at him. His stomach filled with anger and sadness… But the anger won, and he got up and made his way to his own bed, and grabbed his knife. He came back to sit beside Sam then pressed the knife on his own wrist.

Sam suddenly reacted and looked at Dean, eyes flickering between the knife on Dean's perfect skin, and Dean's perfect eyes, now filled with determination.

"Dean wha— stop!" Sam shouted trying to take the knife out of his hands.

Dean slapped his hand away in one move. "Shut up and listen Sammy. This isn't going to work. From now on, every cut you make, is another cut on me. Okay?" He slit one cut on his wrist, and watched it bleed for a second before continuing.

"You can't do this to yourself. You have to realize that there are consequences. You're hurting me. You're… breaking me when you do that to yourself. Before, it wasn't visible, and easy to overlook." He made another cut on his wrist, right next to the first one. "Not anymore. We're going to get through this together, and I intend to understand what you're going through." He made the last cut and dropped the knife on the floor. "So next time you feel like cutting, you're going to think of me, and you're going to think of how much- how much I love you Sammy."

Dean finished off crashing down on Sam's lips, kissing them deeply, conveying how much Sam meant to him. If this was what he had to do to get Sam to quit, then he would cut up a thousand other marks on himself and not let out a single hiss.

Sam felt nauseous. Seeing Dean's blood, knowing he was the reason it was there, he just couldn't handle that. He pulled away from the kiss and yanked Dean's sleeve down over his arm.

"Dean…" he pleaded weakly, "Don't—"

"Don't what, Sam?" Dean sounded frighteningly wounded and helpless.

Sam took a deep breath and then forged on. "I meant what I said before. This is my shit to deal with. I know you want to swoop in and be my knight in shining armor, but Dean, this isn't your fault. And if you ever let you hurt yourself again because of me… dammit Dean that's just not right, okay?"

But he wrapped his arms tightly around Dean to soften the blow of his words.

"No, not okay Sam. You don't have to go through this alone. We're brothers. It's the same fucked up dad we share. I need to be there for you. Please let me be there for you." Dean whispered through Sam's hair still holding him.

"I can't watch you do this." he adds stroking Sam's hair. He needed Sam to open up, he needed Sam to know that he could lean on him whenever he wanted.

He tightened his hold over Sam then released him to look at his face. He placed a chaste kiss on Sam's lips then moved to place dozens of them on Sam's neck nipping and sucking on some. He elicited a low moan from Sam and his hands traveled down to pull Sam's shirt up.

Sam let Dean push him back onto the bed. His breathing sped up as Dean pushed up his shirt, warm hands dancing over his skin. Sam let Dean pull the shirt up over his head and crawl up on top of him.

 _The same fucked up Dad,_ Dean had said. It was a strange statement. For one, coming from Dean, that meant a lot. For Dean to admit that their father wasn't perfect... That was almost all Sam needed to get past this.

But the statement also reminded him that they were _brothers._  It's not like he didn't know that, but hearing it said aloud just before Dean kissed him... Sam tried to push it out of his mind. Of all their fuck ups, this one really didn't seem too bad, right?

Dean's lips were on his chest, kissing their way down his sternum. Dean's hands entwined in his own, raising them up above his head.

"D-dean," he whispered, "Dean do we have time? What if Dad comes home?"

"Mmmh.. I don't know Sammy. Dad can be here any minute. It-it still doesn't mean that we can't do  _some_  of the stuff." Dean smirked, sitting upright between Sam's legs to remove his own shirt.

"Just keep your underwear on and we should be okay. Otherwise.. I don't think I can stop myself." Dean let out a sigh, reveling in the thought of claiming Sam, but getting caught was too much of a risk.

He looked down at Sam lying in front of him, heart still racing, he made a promise that he will make Sam smile again.

"I will figure something out, I promise. I'll arrange something so that we wont be bothered. But now.. this is all we've got." he promised and traced his tongue on Sam's stomach sucking a bruise on his chest. "You're mine." Dean whispered, and laid on top of Sam for another kiss.

 _I'm yours,_  Sam thought, but he couldn't say it out loud, not yet. All he could do was submit to Dean's needy caresses. Dean held both of Sam's hands over his head with one of his own and used the other hand to undo Sam's jeans. Sam wiggled his hips out of the pants as Dean kissed him again. Sam was hardening at Dean's touches. He groaned as Dean's mouth made it's way south, but determinedly avoided actually touching Sam's cock.

Dean released Sam's hands to remove his own shirt. Sam flinched when he saw the cuts on Dean's wrist, and reached out for his arm. Sam's own wounds were still dripping thin trails of blood down his pale skin. He held Dean's hand, turning both their arms upward. He stared at the blood for a moment then twisted their hands so that their wrists were pressed together, blood mixing as it trailed from their cuts.

And then Sam broke down, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

"You p-promise?" he finally asked. Dean frowned, unsure what Sam meant. Sam continued. "You promise you can make this better? If I let you… f-fix me… it will all go away and we'll just be happy?"

"I give you my word, Sammy. I'll make this better. I'll make us better." Dean nodded and kissed Sam's wound. "I have something in mind. But I won't tell ya." Dean smiled.

He held a hand up and cupped Sam's face, then pressed his thumb on Sam's cheek to wipe off the tears. He hated it when Sam cried. It was like the world escaped from below his feet, and he was falling all the way down to hell.

He looked down on Sam's half-hard cock pushing against Sam's boxers and frowned. "I want to do something about it… But we agreed to keep the undies on. Sorry Sammy." He chuckled and continued to kiss a trail up Sam's chest till he reached Sam's face and pressed his forehead against Sam's. "Love you, Sammy."

A moan escaped Sam's lips as Dean's body pressed against his. "Love you, Dean…love you so much," Sam breathed into Dean's kiss. Sam wanted Dean more than anything in the world, needed him. Needed it to be just them, no one else, just him and Dean,  _safe_ , for the rest of his life. He clung to his brother as they kissed.

"I promise I won't…" Sam started, then faltered. Dean pulled back slightly, so Sam tried I again. "I promise I'll try not to, okay? I really mean that. I don't want to c-cut. But Dean, you… this isn't the first time I've… you know… so, it's… it's gonna be hard." He chewed his lip, gauging Dean's reaction.

"I know Sammy. I'll do anything… Whatever I can to distract you from the itch." He placed a chaste kiss on Sam's lips, moaning when their cocks brushed up against each other and pushed himself up. He saw the confused look on Sam's face. "But right now, I gotta make a call, and you gotta stay here and not eavesdrop." Dean smirked.

He picked his shirt up off the ground and wore it. Then he found his shoes, and his jacket and left the room leaving a completely confused and lost Sam in the room, and walked for a couple of minutes making sure Sam couldn't hear his conversation.

Then he got his cellphone out, and dialed the number he memorized by heart. When he saw the name attached to the number on the screen, he held it up against his ear waiting for it to be answered.

"Hi Dad." Dean said in a determined voice.


	4. Speed of Sound

A couple of minutes later Dean came back in the room, and without looking at Sam, he started stuffing his things in the duffel.

"Come on Sammy. Pack your shit. We're leaving."

Sam sat up, confused. "Does Dad need us...?" he asked, reaching slowly for his shirt. He looked up at Dean, saw the firm set of his jaw, the hint of apprehension in his eyes.

"Dean?" Sam dropped the shirt and stood up, comprehension dawning on him. "Really?"

He couldn't believe it. He stepped closer to Dean, looking down at the floor, a smile trying tentatively to break its way onto his face. He could feel the tears again, but they weren't tears of despair. He looped his fingers through Dean's belt loops to pull him close, and looked up at him through wet eyelashes. "You're really doing this for me?"

"Yeah Sammy. I told you. Anything. I just got off the phone with Dad, and since I'm in no shape to hunt for at least another week, we're going to take baby, and have ourselves a vacation. It wasn't easy. Damn, that man made me feel like I got a beating over the phone. But still, I got it. Away from trouble, away from everything. Just you and me…" Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him closer letting Sam nuzzle on his shoulder.

He smiled and added "Now get your shit, first thing on the vacation list: Find ourselves another motel a town over and put the "do not disturb" sign on the handle." He chuckled as he broke apart from the hug and went on with filling his duffel. This was going to be good. Hell, this was going to be awesome. Plenty of time to spend with each other and plenty of time to sort things out, fix themselves. Dean was almost grateful his leg got shredded. Almost… It was still a little sore.

Sam helped Dean chuck all their crap into the bag, grinning. He was so happy. A whole week free from Dad. If only it could be forever, but he'd take what he could get now. He was surprised Dad had agreed to this at all. Sam put the last of his things into the bag and looked up at Dean.

"What did you tell him?" He asked, frowning.

"I told him I needed some down time. I exaggerated my leg pain a little and told him that I wanted to take you with me. He tried to protest but he knew he couldn't have me hunt with that leg, and he also knew he couldn't have me go off alone, so he kinda trusts you to keep me safe. I told you before, Dad is not disappointed in you, Sammy. He's just… not good with words." Dean replied his heart aching at Sam's frown.

Then he continued to limp like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and said "You should've heard me Sammy, I faked a gimp leg over the phone. I'm a great fucking actor. Oscar material, I tell ya!" in between chuckles to light up the mood.

Sam couldn't help smiling a little at Dean's attempts. Things were finally looking up, and the numbness that had been eating away at him for the last week started to fade. But he still couldn't be completely happy, because Dean was wrong. Dad was great with words. Great at saying just the right ones to make the ground drop out from beneath Sam.

Sam helped Dean carry their gear out to the car. Dean said that Dad didn't know where they were staying, so Sam was eager to leave before their father came home. He stood idly by the passenger side while Dean organized the trunk.

"Hey," Dean called.

Sam snapped out of his daze as Dean tossed him the keys. Sam caught them and stared at his brother, dumbfounded. He knew how to drive of course, Dad had taught him when he was thirteen, but the Impala was Dean's baby, and he was as protective of it as Gollum was of the ring.

Sam turned to his brother and gave him a genuine beaming smile.

"Maybe I should let you drive baby more… Maybe. Not really. Just once or twice." Dean said returning that beautiful innocent smile on Sam's face. He waited for Sam to scoot over to the driver's seat, and got in the car.

"So… where to?" Sam asked putting the key in the ignition.

"Dunno Sammy. We can go anywhere. Where do you wanna go?" Dean turned to Sam, his back leaning on the passenger door.

Sam rewarded Dean with another smile as he turned the key in the ignition. "I know just the place." Sam said joyfully.

"Alright, then let's go. But be careful, if I see even a scratch on my baby, I'll kick your perky little ass." Dean warned before getting comfortable against the door and closing his eyes.

"Wake me up when we get to the motel in the next town. I'm gonna need to store some energy for tonight." Dean smirked with his eyes closed. He felt content when he heard a small chuckle. Then he drifted off to sleep.

Sam backed the car carefully out of the parking lot. He couldn't stop smiling. This was the happiest he'd been in, well, as long as he could remember. Spending a whole week alone with Dean, and no hunting, would have seemed like a pipe dream not too long ago.

He drove for about twenty minutes and pulled into another motel parking lot. He gently shook his brother's shoulder.

"Dean," he called softly. Dean woke up, rubbing his eyes. Sam smiled at him again and Dean felt that fluttering warmness inside. "You stay here while i get the room, 'kay?"

Dean nodded and Sam got out of the car and walked to the office. There was a sweet looking older lady sitting at the desk playing solitaire with a deck of cards. She looked up at Sam through thick pink rimmed glasses.

"A room for two, please?" Sam asked.

The woman nodded and flipped through her book. "You want two singles?" she asked.

Sam couldn't help grinning. "No, one king."

The woman raised an eyebrow and Sam blushed. But he paid with one of Dean's credit cards and then returned to the Impala.

Sam nudged Dean awake again, and Dean got out of the car, suddenly returning back to his energetic state.

He swayed impatiently as Sam deliberately unlocked the door as slow as he can.

"Come on Sammy!" Dean was slightly agitated at Sam's turtle speed. But when he entered the room after Sam, the largest smile settled on his face.

Sam looked at him, waiting for him to react to his choice. And Dean pulled him close and pressed a bruising kiss on Sam's lips. "A king huh?" Dean said breaking apart from the kiss. He smiled at went back to sucking his brother's lips, biting at his lower lip.

"I want you Sammy." he whispered and sucked a bruise on Sam's neck, pulling Sam's shirt a little up so that he could have access to a little skin. He traced his hands along Sam's back, and held him by the neck, deepening the kiss, exploring every inch of Sam's mouth.

When the kiss finally slowed, Sam pulled back, smiling a little shyly. "I'm yours," he said, and he meant it. He was fully and completely Dean's. And he couldn't wait for the next day, and what he had planned for Dean.

But now he pressed himself into Dean, "So can we make use of this bed or what?"

"We'll think of something." Dean smirked clutching Sam's waist. Then he pushed Sam down on the bed settling on top of him, between his legs. "I'll make it okay baby." Dean murmured into Sam's lips, and pinned his arms up, revealing the scars, and kissed them.

Sam whimpered beneath him. Dean would make it okay. Everything would be fine again.

Then Dean straddled on top of Sam and took off his shirt, and tossed it on the ground. He helped Sam get out of his shirt, and pants, but he didn't go for the underwear. Then he got up and took his own pants off, looking down at Sam just lying there waiting for him with a shy smile on his face and flushed cheeks. He was so innocent. Dean realized how much he loved him, how much he wanted to take care of him.

He slid down next to Sam and put his healthy leg over Sam's. He went on to envelope Sam's earlobe, nipping and sucking on it slowly as Sam laid there and allowed Dean to take care of him. Dean's hand traveled down, and cupped Sam's cock over his underwear and started rubbing it with teasing motions. He bit Sam's neck when he heard Sam shiver with pleasure and moan into his neck. "My Sammy." he growled and slid down again, between Sam's legs licking at the hemline of his boxers.

"T-take 'em off, Dea." Sam mumbled thrusting his hips forward. Dean grabbed his boxers and took them off. He gripped Sam's shaft and started pumping to a slow rhythm while his peppered his thighs with wet kisses.

"Dean..." Sam pleaded and Dean wetted his lips. He swallowed Sam whole and Sam's hips shot up. So he placed his hands on Sam's hips pinning him to the bed and started bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks. Sam was already hard and leaking pre-come in his mouth. Dean licked him clean, brushing against his slit and traced the vein below Sam's shaft all the way up while Sam continued to moan.

A finger trailed down and brushed against Sam's puckered hole. "Aahh... Dean, more!" Sam begged him.

Dean swirled his finger around Sam's hole as he reached for lube.

"You ready, baby brother?" he growled huskily against Sam's neck. Sam arched forward, nodding furiously. He draped his leg around Dean's waist as Dean slipped his finger inside.

"M-more," breathed, "Need you Dean."

Dean obeyed, sliding in a second finger, his own cock hardening as Sam opened up for him. He shifted so Sam could slide his other leg up and wrap them tight around his waist.

"De-an, take me," Sam begged.

Dean didn't waste a second. He slicked himself with lube and position himself at Sam's entrance. Sam was panting against his chest. He gripped Dean's shoulders, nails digging into his shoulder blades as Dean pushed into him.

Sam groaned, gritting his teeth. "Dean," he hissed, squeezing his legs tighter.

"You okay, baby?" Dean asked worriedly. "I can go slower." He added as he stopped moving inside Sam and waited for him to adjust.

Sam nodded, pain slowly erasing from his face. "'M fine, y-you can move." Sam reassured Dean, giving him the word he needed to start thrusting his hips forward and deep into Sam.

Sam scratched his back, and left bruises, moaning when Dean hit the spot inside him. "Ahhh! Dean, faster!" he growled, and Dean picked up speed, circling his hips to give as much pleasure as he can to Sam.

He sat up, and pushed Sam's legs over to his chest by the knees, completely revealing everything Sam had.

He got his cock almost all the way out and slammed it back in. "Mmmh Sammy, so... fucking tight." he panted watching Sam arch at his thrusts. Sam's hole was enveloping all of him, hot and wet and tight around him, driving him crazy, and he was damn close.

"Baby… 'M close." Dean whispered picking up speed and angling his thrusts to hit the spot every time he slammed into Sam, a little harder and a little deeper each time. Sam gripped his cock and started pumping to Dean's pace, picking up speed along with him.

A few moments later both Dean and Sam were on the edge. "Sam… I'm—" Dean tried to warn him but got cut off with waves of his orgasm shooting down his spine, filling his brother's hole still slamming into Sam, who was now riding out his own orgasm, back arched and hands clutching the sheets. His hole pulsated around Dean's cock, which only drove Dean crazier and he pulled his cock out, and slammed it in one last time moaning louder than ever, shooting his last drops before letting go of Sam's legs and crushing down on his brother's chest which was sticky and wet with his cum.

Dean felt his own cum slicking inside Sam's hole, slowly dripping down. He slid out of Sam but remained on top of him to cover his lips with his own, tasting the salty sweat drops forming above Sam's lips. "My Sammy…" he whispered again.

Sam latched on to Dean, holding him impossibly close. This is what he wanted. To be entirely Dean's, and Dean's only. To be protected, to be  _owned._ He curled into Dean as Dean stroked his hair.

He wanted to tell Dean that this was all he wanted--them, together, nothing else. He wanted to tell Dean that he couldn't go back to Dad. But he couldn't say it. Because he knew Dean didn't want that. Dean wanted to make everything better, make them a happy family. But Sam knew that would never happen. His family was Dean.

Sam reached for the blanket to pull over them as sleep crept in. He kissed Dean again and then snuggled into his chest.

A thousand thoughts flew inside Dean's head as he held Sam tight. He was happy. Which was surprising because with the life they had, Dean thought they didn't have that luxury. This was the only time he saw Sam being this happy; despite the cuts. He felt himself being sucked into a dilemma in which he would either have to choose Sam's happiness or being a united family. He knew things would never go right if they were united. Sam would be miserable, and Dad would be angry all the time, and Dean would be a wreck, always trying to be the bridge between Sam and Dad. He realized how horrible that would be, and squeezed Sam in his arms, who was slowly going limp on his chest.

 _There must be another way._ Dean thought.  _I have to figure it out. For Sam…_

But he was too tired to think it through, so he decided to plan something later. They still had a week, and that week didn't need to be clouded by these thoughts. He had more pressing matters. And he was determined to keep up his approach. Sam cuts, he cuts. But the next time Sam cut, it would be a different way of cutting for Dean, he was sure that this plan would work well as he hoped.

When Sam woke up the next morning he was still wrapped tight in Dean's arms. He glanced over at the clock and saw that it was almost 9. Dad would never have let them sleep this late. Sam nudged Dean. They should get on the road if they were going to make it to their destination by nighttime.

Dean opened his eyes groggily and stretched. " 'Morning."

Sam grinned at Dean's bedhead, and leaned in to kiss him.

"Showertime," he smiled against Dean's lips. Dean flopped back on the bed as Sam got up to go to the shower. Sam had turned the water on and gotten in by the time Dean made it to the bathroom. He slipped in behind Sam, wrapping his arms loosely around Sam's waist. He rested his chin on Sam's shoulder and reached for the soap.

Sam leaned back against Dean as his hands roamed gently over his body.

And then Dean was jerking him off and he was groaning out his orgasm, head thrown back against Dean. He tilted his chin to capture Dean's lips in a needy, hungry kiss.

When they finally made it out to the car it was almost eleven. Dean handed Sam the keys again and Sam glanced at the directions he'd printed out in the motel office. Then he tucked them back into his pocket so Dean couldn't see where they were going. It should be about an eight hour drive south, so Sam downed a cup of coffee and they headed off.

"Dean!" Sam hissed, "We're in public." He complained half heartedly, glancing around anxiously.

"Shh, no one's looking," Dean chuckled, hand making its way to Sam's crotch. Sam bit his lip to keep his gasps silent.

"Can't...keep your h-hands...off me, huh?" He teased through his teeth.

Dean shook his head. "Can't. Don't want to." He ran his hand over the bulge in Sam's pant, grinning mischievously.

"Dean!" Sam protested. "We can't. Not here!" But he made no effort to push Dean away.

"Of course we can't, dude. As much as I want to, I can't just slam you down on the table and fuck you senseless. They'll kick us out. And I'm hungry." Dean chuckled into Sam's ear. "But it doesn't mean I can't torture you. I'm just preparing you for your after-lunch promise, Sammy." He grabbed the bulge in Sam's pants tighter making Sam gasp and knock over the salt on the table.

Dean sucked Sam's earlobe then licked his way down Sam's neck. The waitress arrived with their food, and Sam let out a relieving breath when Dean's attention turned to the juicy burger in front of him. His pants were constricting his hard-on and he thanked god for it. He willed his erection away and gazed down at his salad.

"You're such a jerk." Sam huffed out before digging into his own meal.

"Mmpfh," Dean mumbled around his burger, "You love it."

Sam couldn't argue with that. He took a bite of lettuce and nearly choked on it as Dean's hand slipped under his waistband to rest on his ass.

"Dean!" He exclaimed again, glaring daggers at his brother. Then he lowered his voice, "If you keep this up I'm not going to make it through lunch dammit."

Dean wolfed down another bite of burger and licked his lips. Then he smirked. "Me neither," he wiped his face on a napkin. "Bathroom. Now." he ordered.

Sam dropped his fork with a clatter and bolted out of the booth.

Dean pushed the bathroom door open and pulled Sam in with him. There were two other guys at the urinals but nobody else.

"Out." Dean glared at the guys. When he didn't get the reaction he wanted "Now!" he shouted, scaring them shitless and they got out quickly, giving the death stare to Dean. Then he pushed Sam up against the wall, and devoured Sam's lips with his.

He slipped his hand inside Sam's pants, and grabbed his ass so hard that Sam groaned loudly. The kiss deepened when Dean licked for entrance and Sam allowed him. Then he broke apart from the kiss and looked into Sam's eyes.

"Down." Dean growled clutching handfuls of Sam's hair. Sam obeyed without hesitation and dropped to his knees.

He unzipped Dean's pants, and got his throbbing cock out.

Dean put his hands on the wall over Sam's head to steady himself as Sam stroked his length. Sam leaned forward and took Dean into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head. He looked up at Dean whose eyes were screwed shut and mouth was hanging open, panting in pleasure.

Sam took Dean in deeper, trying not to wince as Dean's cock hit the back of his throat. He shut his eyes and grabbed onto Dean's hips as he bobbed his head back and forth.

Dean grunted his name over and over as Sam sucked down more and more of his cock. Dean bucked against his mouth, thrusting himself deeper. It hurt, but Sam didn't care. He wanted this. Dean's voice was raw when he screamed Sam's name, letting him know he was about to come. Sam braced himself as Dean thrust forward, spilling streams of hot seed into Sam's mouth. Sam swallowed it all down and licked Dean clean, grinning up at him.

"Good?" he asked.

Dean tried to pull himself together. The mouth on that boy… Damn. It would be the death of him. "Great, Sammy…" He was still panting, his toes curled up in his shoes. He reached down and pulled Sam up, pressing his body onto Sam's as he was crushed between the wall and Dean's torso. He held Sam's chin and opened his mouth as he tilted his head forward for a deep kiss. He slipped his knees between Sam's thighs and rubbed till he felt Sam was rock hard. He tasted himself in Sam's mouth. His cock twitched at the sensation, and his hand shot up to Sam's hair to yank it to the side, revealing his neck.

"Mmmh… Dean.. m-more!" Sam pleaded as Dean sucked several bruises on Sam's neck.

"My turn." Dean hissed and fell on his knees. He quickly unbuttoned Sam's jeans and got Sam's length out, swallowing him whole without warning. Sam tried to grab onto Dean's short spikes, clawing at his skull as Dean bobbed his head sucking at the head and licking the base of Sam's cock.

"Come for me baby." Dean whispered before sucking harder and swallowing Sam's cock deeper. Dean always gave the best deepthroats. It wasn't long before Sam shot his seed down Dean's throat, hips uncontrollably bucking forward and thrusting into Dean's mouth.

Dean swallowed Sam's seed and got up. "Now how was that?" Dean smirked.

Sam sank back against the wall, shaking. Dean reached forward to hold him up. "You okay there buddy?"

Sam shot him a weak glare. " 'M fine," he slurred.

Dean tucked Sam back into his pants and zipped them up. He kissed Sam on the cheek and draped his arms around his neck. "You're fuckin' perfect," he mumbled into Sam's forehead.

Sam's cheeks reddened and he smiled bashfully up at Dean. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

Dean chuckled and ruffled his fingers through Sam's hair. "You're worth a few chick-flick moments."

Sam flung his arms around Dean's waist.

"Come on weak knees, let's go, my food is getting cold." Dean chuckled before placing one last chaste kiss on Sam's lips, and guided Sam out of the bathroom and back to their booth.

The food was mildly warm, but they both ate it anyways. A little crappy food was so worth those orgasms. Dean dropped a couple of bills on the table, and they got out.

Sam settled onto the driver's seat, and Dean gave him an unamused stare.

"I think I can drive now, thank you very much." He said, completely serious.

"Your leg is still not fine, and you don't know where we're going, Dean. So shut up and get in. I'm not gonna scratch your baby." Sam blurted out cockily.

Dean's impression softened then he surrendered. "Alright fine. But this better be good."

"Oh it is..." Sam smiled before firing up the engine and pulling out of the parking lot.


	5. Paradise

They drove in silence for a bit, both still enjoying the afterglow of their orgasms. Then Dean turned on the radio, and Sam didn't complain when he tuned into the local mullet rock station. He even cracked a smile when Dean sang along (rather out of key) to Guns and Roses. It was as if nothing could put a damper on his good mood.

Dean fell asleep again as the sun started setting and Sam took the opportunity to check his map. They were only about an hour out from their destination. Sam turned the car onto route 89 as the sun sank down past the horizon. If all went according to plan, Dean wouldn't know where they were until the next morning. And Sam couldn't wait to see the look on his brother's face at sunrise.

The last hour of the drive was agonizingly long, but finally Sam pulled into the parking lot of the B&B where he'd made reservations. He parked the car and nudged his brother awake.

" 's the matter Sammy? We here?"

"Yeah we are. I have to go in and get the key. You stay here and keep your eyes closed, okay?" Sam gave Dean his signature puppy dog look.

"Why?" Dean scrunched his brow.

"Just do it, please? I want this to be perfect." And he knew Dean would obey him.

Once he got the room, which was a minor fiasco because the woman simply refused to believe that he was a nineteen year old named Jose Guerrera (the only ID he had on him at that time), he raced back to Dean nearly bouncing with excitement.

"Keep your eyes closed!" he ordered, taking Dean's hand. He led his brother into the hotel and up the stairs to their master suite. When he finally got the door open he turned to Dean. "Okay you can open now."

"Wait.. whoa! We're at a hotel? Look at this place its huge!" Dean was glowing with surprise and happiness. Sam really went all out for him. He quickly pulled Sam closer and combed his hair with his fingers and placed a loving kiss.

Then he turned his head to inspect the room. The bed could fit at least four people. And there was a fucking terrace. Then he saw the giant TV placed across the bed, and the bathroom. There was a steam shower, and a jacuzzi.  _How did Sam get that kinda money? He must've maxed out my credit card._ Dean thought. He couldn't care less about the credit card right now.

"It's awesome Sammy!" He hopped on the bed and tapped on the sheets so Sam would sit beside him. Sam slowly came over, smiling, he made Dean happy and that smile on his face was all he wanted to see, forever.

"I'm glad you liked it, because it's ours for a week." Sam watched as Dean's smile widened, he was now grinning silly.

"Wait… Where are we? I mean— which state? Which city?" Dean looked at Sam, puzzled. He didn't pay attention to road signs on the way, and Sam didn't let him open his eyes till they got in the room.

Sam hugged Dean. "It's a surprise, 'k? It's too dark to see anything now so I'll show you in the morning." He dumped his bag unceremoniously on the floor and grabbed Dean's hands. "I'm so happy, Dean." He looked up at his brother with warm, chocolate brown eyes.

Dean squeezed Sam's hands back and leaned in for a kiss, which Sam returned happily. Dean pulled back and glanced towards the bed. Sam knew what he wanted, but he chewed on his lip apologetically. "I'm exhausted man," he laughed a little. "And we have the whole week to use the bed. Can we just sleep?"

Dean chuckled. "Did I wear you out?" he teased.

Sam rolled his eyes and started stripping out of his clothes. The bed was a four poster king size, so when Sam jumped up to sit on it, he was eye level with Dean. Dean positioned himself between Sam's legs and wrapped his arms loosely around Sam's waist. He leaned in so his forehead was pressed against Sam's.

"I love you," he murmured, kissing Sam lightly on the nose.

Sam smiled and scooted back on the bed, pulling Dean with him.

Dean let himself pulled on top of Sam and straddled on his thighs. He took his shirt off, then rolled off of Sam chuckling like a kid and wiggled his pants off too. They were left in their boxers, and Dean crawled under the sheets waving Sam to do the same.

Sam rested on Dean's chest, one of his arms holding Sam impossibly close. Their hot burning flesh was getting hotter each time they brushed upon each other, but that was always like this. The least amount of touching could get them going, that was something only they shared.

Dean buried his nose in Sam's messy hair and kissed. Sam let out a happy little moan, and they let sleep claim them, limbs tangled up. Sam nuzzled his face on Dean's neck and they slept till sunrise.

Sam was the first one to wake up. He'd slept unbelievably well. It must've been the bed, or the scent of Dean. Or both… He tried not to move and wake Dean up, but he couldn't help himself and placed a hand on Dean's hip, pulling him closer and holding him tight.

Dean moved into Sam, purring softly, still asleep. Sam nuzzled into him, gently kissing his neck until he woke up.

"Hey," he greeted Dean with a sheepish smile. Dean couldn't help himself from capturing those lips in a sleepy good-morning kiss.

Then Dean rubbed his eyes and sat up, stretching. The sun was just starting to peak in through the window, perfect for Sam's big reveal. He pulled Dean out of bed and dragged him by the hand over to the balcony. He leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "You ready?" he asked and Dean nodded.

Sam pulled back the curtain and opened the door onto the terrace.

And there it was. The Grand Canyon. Dean's eyes went wide, staring at Sam with incredulity. "You—this—Sammy!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms tight around his little brother and squeezing.

"You knew I wanted this the most! Thank you baby…" Dean teared up a little, and rubbed his eyes, than held Sam like he never had before. He didn't let go for minutes. But Sam wasn't complaining. That reaction was worth thousands of hours of driving and millions of dollars worth of hotel rooms, and probably even that wouldn't measure up to Sam's joy and Dean's happiness.

"I love you Dean. I'd do anything for you." Sam said with a serious tone, he meant what he said and he didn't want it to be taken lightly.

"I love you too, Sammy. So fuckin' much." Dean took those words with utter joy. He was fully aware of the weight of that statement and he felt exactly the same. He'd die for Sam, come back, and die again if he had to.

"Okay, you want to have breakfast on the terrace? You can watch it all you want, and then we can go down there afterwards." Sam suggested.

Dean nodded frantically and stayed on the terrace eyes still wide and awestruck as Sam ordered for room service.

They ate chocolate chip banana pancakes on the terrace, sitting side by side on the loveseat, Dean's fingers absently tracing patterns over Sam's thigh. Dean was radiating happiness and Sam was soaking it in like a drug.

Sam took a bite of pancake and dribbled syrup down his chin. He reached for a napkin to wipe it off but Dean beat him to it, gently licking the sticky liquid off with his tongue and then kissing Sam.

"You taste so good, Sammy," he mumbled into Sam's lips, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. Sam kissed back then pulled away.

"While I would love to spend the entire day right here doing naughty things to you, we kind of need to get showered and dressed if we're going to get to the canyon before it's 110 degrees."

Dean sat back, pouting, but agreed. They finished off the pancakes and then headed to the shower, which took longer then they'd planned due to Dean's inability to keep his hands off of a naked Sam. Finally they made it down to the canyon, which was literally steps from the front of the hotel.

They walked for a while, Dean occassionally stopping and staring at the breathtaking view. The sweet sensation of the breeze swept away some of the sweat they broke because it really was getting a 110 degrees outside. But Dean didn't want to leave. He saw a dried up tree trunk and strutted towards it.

"Hey Sammy, c'mere." he said, taking his knife out of it's strap on his ankle.

Dean carved D.W. , S.W. and the date to the tree trunk.

"Are you gonna draw a heart around it too?" Sam teasing him lightly bumping into Dean's shoulder with his. Dean laughed and shoved Sam back.

"No, bitch, I'm not, but if you're so into it you do it!" Dean teased back drawing a heart with his fingertips into the air.

Sam charged forward and shoved Dean to the tree trunk pinned his hands above his head and whispered into his ear. "Jerk." Then chuckled and let go of Dean's hands.

"Let's go have lunch, I might dry up and die here, man." Sam said turning back on his heels and walking slowly back into the hotel.

Dean looked at the view once more, taking it all in, memorizing, then caught up with Sam, and put his hand into Sam's back pocket. "Yeah.. Let's."

They walked back to their room, Sam leaning comfortable into Dean. When they got to the door, Dean swooped Sam up into his arms, carrying him bridal style into the room. They were both laughing hysterically as they crashed onto the bed. They lay there for a minute, side by side, as their laughter slowly subsided. Then Dean rolled over on his side to face Sam.

He reached up to brush Sam's hair behind his ear and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then he looked at him pensively. "Sammy, I want-" he began, then trailed off. He wasn't sure how to phrase his request. Sam looked up at him expectantly. Dean tried again. "Sam, I need you... I need you inside me." he chewed his lip as comprehension dawned on Sam's face. "I want you to top me," he finished.

Sam's eyes widened. Then he smiled shyly. "Yeah, yeah I can do that," he nodded and dove in for a kiss.

"This is better than lunch." Dean smiled breaking apart from the kiss to catch his breath. He really was gonna go through with it. Let Sam top… It felt weird thinking about it, but also so good.

Sam practically ripped both their clothes up and laid on top of Dean slowly grinding his cock on Dean's getting him rock hard and squirming.

He shifted on the bed, and licked at Dean's throbbing member making him arch his back and pull his long locks. Then he started bobbing his head up and down, hands placed on Dean's hips. When he felt Dean building up he pulled away with a loud pop.

Dean looked at him with need and confusion. "Sammy… I need more. 'M c-close."

Sam smiled reassuringly. "I know Dean, just not yet, turn around." He said helping Dean turn around and get up on all fours. "You ready?" Sam mumbled a finger tracing over Dean's untouched puckered hole.

"Yeah. S-Sammy, I need you." Dean growled. Sam got off the bed and picked the lube up from Dean's duffel and returned to bed where Dean was waiting, opened up and on all fours, all ready for Sam to take him.

He squeezed some onto his hand and rubbed it on his fingers. Then he lightly grazed over the hole, disturbing it with teasing touches. "Aahh Sammy c'mon!" Dean said panting. His cock started hurting because of the tension building up inside him.

Sam pushed through the first ring of muscle and Dean gasped. He waited for him to adjust then added another finger accompanied by a hiss from Dean. He moved them slowly, and Dean started relaxing to the rhythm. Without warning Sam added a third finger and Dean was stretched out.

He picked the lube up again and rubbed it on his cock and aligned it with Dean's hole, stroking it with the head of his cock. "Yes, Sammy, g-get inside me." Dean stuttered with pleasure.

Sam pushed forward and they both groaned with the first wave of extreme pleasure running down their cocks. Dean's hands shot up towards his back, getting him in a sitting position and Sam grabbed him by the waist and chest and pushed their torsos together. Dean's hand was now on Sam's neck, pinning his head to Dean's shoulder as Sam held him tight. Then Sam slowly started to move and Dean moved at the same pace, their movement intensifying with perfect harmony as Sam bucked forward and Dean grinded backwards.

They started speeding up, Sam's hands groping every inch of Dean's chest and nipping at his ear. While one of his hands remained on Sam's neck, Dean's other hand traveled down and gripped his own shaft, pumping.

Sam's hand took over as they were edging on their orgasms and suddenly at the same time, Dean bucked forward thrusting into Sam's hand and shooting his seed, dripping down his knuckles as Sam came with a violent last slam into Dean and pumped his seed inside Dean's hole, filling him up.

They both crashed down on the bed, Sam on top of Dean, still twitching inside Dean from his orgasm.

Sam's ragged breathing on Dean's neck sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. They lay there panting until Dean nudged Sam's hips and he pulled out so Dean could roll over and face Sam.

"Shit," he managed to articulate.

"Was it... was it good?" Sam asked hesitantly.

" _Was it good?_  Shit Sam, fucking blew my mind. You're sure that was your first time?"

Sam shrugged. "Eh I had a pretty good teacher."

And they were both laughing and hugging, and if this wasn't paradise, they really didn't know what was.

The next four days were perfect. They made excellent use of the jacuzzi (water jets, enough said), ate fancy foods with names they couldn't even pronounce (neither had any idea what the hell creme brulee meant, but man that stuff was delicious), and even went horseback riding into the canyon (since Dean's leg had pretty much healed).

It was heaven until Dean brought up the elephant in the room.

"I guess I should call Dad and see where we should meet him, yeah?" He said while they were sitting on the terrace Thursday afternoon.

Sam's face instantly darkened.

"Dean— I don't.. I can't." Sam tried to express his reluctance to meet up with Dad so soon. Or ever. That man sucked the life out of him, the life that only Dean could make better.

"But, Sam we gotta… It's gonna be fine. You don't have to be worried." Dean tried to comfort Sam. But it was no use.

"I'm sick of moving around so much Dean! I want to spend my junior year at one school. I want to make friends dammit! I want teachers to know my name. I want to apply to college!" It was all coming out now, there was no holding back. "Dean I want to be normal, okay? No hunting, just being a normal, fucking, teenager."

Dean reached forward to comfort him but Sam shook him off.

"We can work something out. I don't know, you can stay with Bobby, and Dad and I can hunt—"

Sam cut him off angrily. "No! Dean you don't get it. I want to be with you, and I can't handle Dad. If you want to go with him then… I don't know Dean, but I just can't."

"Please Sam, just give it a try," Dean pleaded. "We can go back, just for a week or something and see how it works…"

Sam looked at him with hurt eyes.

"You really don't get it, do you?" he asked hollowly.

"What?" Dean was perplexed by how upset Sam was. "Sam I do, I just—"

Sam already went to that dark place… The place where Dean knew cuts existed. Sam started rubbing his arm with the itch that the need to cut gave him.

"I don't.. I need a moment." Sam blurted out and paced to the bathroom, shutting it loudly and locking it after himself. Dean followed him but couldn't catch Sam before he locked the door.

"Sammy! Come out, let me help. Please Sam, don't do this… Sammy!" Dean yelled pounding on the door. His plan wasn't gonna work if he didn't see how many cuts Sam made…

Sam sat down on the floor, leaning against the door, shaking with every punch Dean threw. He was silently sobbing, he didn't need to cause this much pain to Dean. Just a few cuts and he would be fine… He had to be fine.

He moved away from the door, and leaned on the bathtub, still sitting on the ground, and got his knife out of its ankle holster. Dean had taken his pocket knife, but he still had the hunting knife.

Dean was still begging him to come out. He tried to ignore the pain in his voice. "I'll be o-out in a minute. D-Dean please, j-just leave me alone!" Sam shouted and Dean's voice dropped to a whisper, and he stopped punching the door.

"Sammy, please, unlock the door, let me in… Please, I need to see you. I need to make sure— Please."

"No.. I c-can't." Sam shot him down. Then Dean went completely silent. He was all ears, trying to hear something, anything.

Dean didn't understand. He didn't get that there was no way Sam could ever see their father again. Dean was still trying to save their family, but the only way he could save Sam was to take him far away from Dad.

Sam sliced into his arm, a deep red gash that instantly bubbled over with blood. Sam pressed the knife on his wrist again, recklessly and angrily, and slashed, going deeper than he intended to, and let out a hiss. It was a sound Dean wouldn't have even noticed if he wasn't pressed to the door waiting for something like this.

Blood gushed out of Sam's wrist, freely pouring onto the floor and his pants. He looked at it, face emotionless, like he didn't understand what that red matter was.

Then this warm feeling, mixed with cold and relaxing started creeping under his skin and he felt relaxed, completely let go. In a matter of seconds he heard a loud thump and crack. He turned his face to the door which was kicked open and splinters flying across the room, but his brain didn't let him process it. He saw Dean's face. He was horrified.  _Why is he horrified? Everything's fine…_ Sam thought, weakly smiling at him.

"Dean… I think…" he held his wrist up weakly. "Dean 'm sorry…" he slurred as his head fell back against the tub.

Then his eyelids were too much of a challenge to keep open, and he closed them…

Dean raced forward and grabbed Sam before he slumped to the floor. "Sammy!" he shouted, "Sam wake up!" He blindly reached for a towel to sop up the blood. So much blood. Sam looked so pale. So small and helpless in his arms. Sobs wracked through Dean's body. If only he'd gotten in a moment sooner. No, if only he hadn't brought up Dad. He knew now that they were never going back to that man. Not if this is what he made Sammy do. He rocked Sam back and forth, still trying to get him to wake up. He mumbled nonsensically into Sam's ear, pleading, begging, bargaining.

When the blood soaked through the entire towel he knew he couldn't handle this himself. He picked Sam up into his arms to take him to the car, but realized he had no idea where any hospitals were. And it would take too long any way. Sam didn't have that kind of time. Reluctantly Dean called 911, barely managing to explain his emergency before his sobs took over and he collapsed next to Sam.

"It's gonna be okay," he choked, "I promise, Sammy, I'll make this okay."


	6. Every Teardrop is a Waterfall

Sam's eyes fluttered open; his sight was blurry and all he saw was light. He winced at how much his body was aching. Dean must've slept on his limbs. The bed didn't feel as comfortable as last night, and there was this awkward smell… like alcohol and disinfectant… and hospital! Sam shot up in bed. He was in a hospital. Then he remembered what happened.

His eyes went to gaze at the bandages up his arm. Then he choked back his tears.

 _Dean…_ He thought, looking around him looking for his brother. Dean was just outside the door, talking to a doctor.

"Those wounds, seemed self inflicted, he's going to be fine with some bed rest but I suggest you take him to a specialist. In suicide cases the patient usually tries it again." The doctor spoke in a monotonous tone driving Dean crazy seeing how little he cared. He scribbled down the information of some head specialist and handed it to Dean. Sam watched it as Dean took it, and crumpled it in his palm throwing it on the floor.

"This was no suicide attempt! Just do your job. Get him better. We're dealing." Dean growled at the doctor. Then he turned his head and saw Sam looking at him with tears streaming down his face.

"Sammy, you're awake." Dean closed the distance in seconds and sat down on the bed holding Sam's hands. "Don't you ever do that to me again." Dean mumbled into Sam's forehead before kissing it. He broke apart and looked at Sam, still holding his hands.

"D-Dean," Sam croaked. His throat was raw. He swallowed and tried again. "Dean it wasn't on p-purpose. You gotta know that. I-I didn't mean to..."

Dean bowed his head, forehead resting on Sam's.

"I know Sam. Baby I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-" he stopped himself from bringing up Dad  _again._ He looked down at Sam's wrist. It had taken six rounds of gauze to finally stop the bleeding so that the doctors could stitch him up. Dean had paced the hallway while the doctors gave Sam a blood transfusion and hooked him up to IVs. He'd begged them to take his blood to give to Sammy, but his type hadn't matched, so he'd been left pounding his fists into the wall and sobbing until he fell asleep in the waiting room chair.

"Dean it's okay. I know you're not ready to give up on Dad yet. And if you... if it's what you want we can go back. Give him a chance." Sam couldn't meet Dean's eyes as he said it. He knew he couldn't handle Dad, but if it's what Dean wanted, he could try, for Dean.

"No, Sam. I'm not letting you go through that again.  _I'm_  not going through that again. Dad called while you were out. I didn't tell him that… I' didn't tell him where we were, but I told him we were going to hunt on our own for a while. I said some stuff about you gaining experience on easy jobs, and he seemed to have bought it." Dean squeezed Sam's hands then pulled him closer for a hug. He released Sam after a while.

"I— I still wanna hunt, but, if you don't, we can… find some apartment and you can finish school there. I don't know.. I didn't think it through, I was just focused on convincing Dad. W-We can talk about this later.." Dean huffed out, exhausted and hurt.

That normal life, was not something Dean could give Sam. The only thing he knew, the only job he had was being a hunter, and he was good at it. Sam was going to leave him… And Dean couldn't blame him. He had every right to…

Dean shook his head trying to push those thoughts aside.

"We're not... we're not going back?" Sam gaped. "You're really okay with that?" All the tension flushed from his body and he sank into Dean's embrace. He chewed his lips. "Dean I just don't want to lose you. Hunting... I mean you could have died because of the poltergeist, I don't know what I'd do if... if you died," he finished in a whisper.

They were Winchesters, they'd never have a normal life and Sam was well aware of that. But he just wanted... he wanted this to work.

"I can't give it up Sammy. It's all I have beside you. Who am I if not a hunter? I'm gonna be fine, I'm always fine. I'm not dying Sammy, I'll always be here." Dean was now trying not to cry. He wanted to give it up. But he was nobody without hunting. He was insecure. He wasn't that guy, he couldn't make it in college, he wouldn't make it besides being a hunter.

"I love you Sammy, and I'll always be here for you." Dean whispered into Sam's ear. Their heart ached at this mess they were in. How were they supposed to get past this?

"I love you too Dean, more than anything." Sam cried out. He didn't want to let go of Dean. He couldn't live without him around. He would make it work, even if it killed him, he would make this work.

"Alright, let's get you the fuck out of here, it's depressing." Dean broke away from the embrace and got Sam's fresh clothes out of the duffel. "The doctor said you could go home when you woke up. That prick gets on my nerves." Dean glared at the door. The doctor was long gone and they didn't even notice.

"Okay… Where are we going?" Sam asked.  _Not to Dad.. Please not to Dad._ he thought.

"I dunno, we'll decide when we get on the road, some seedy motel I guess. We maxed out the credit card remember? I gotta go to the post office to pick up the new one but before that we gotta get you settled into a bed." Dean thought out loud also addressing Sam's question.

Sam let out a relieved sigh and waved at Dean to come closer. "What's wrong?" Dean asked reaching over to touch Sam's face. "Does it hurt?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing's wrong." Sam smiled and moved forward for a kiss. He'd missed those lips, so soft and caressing. He loved how Dean sucked at his bottom lip. He mimicked it and Dean let out a happy moan. Maybe they would be fine after all.

Dean helped Sam out of bed. Sam was still a little lightheaded from the blood loss, so he leaned on Dean as he got dressed.

When they were in the car, Sam finally relaxed completely. It was sinking in that they were actually leaving, going off on their own, away from Dad. Dean was his, and his only. Sam glanced over at Dean who was staring determinedly at the road as he drove away from the hospital. Something about his expression was off. Sam knew that he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he promised they would never see their father again.

Sam cleared his throat. "If you- If you want to see him it's okay with me. Just. Don't tell me when you do. And don't mention me to him. I... I don't want to know."

Dean looked at Sam with surpressed shock. He didn't know Sam's feelings were this intense. But he didn't say anything, he couldn't. Seemed like there were no set of words that could possibly be an answer to this.

Instead he put his hand on Sam's thigh and squeezed reassuringly. He would live in a cave and not see anybody if that was what's necessary for Sam to be okay and healthy.

They drove in silence till it was dinner time. Dean pulled over at a motel and checked them in. He helped Sam into the room and helped him get comfortable on the bed.

"I'm gonna go get some grub, Sammy. Rest a little." Dean smiled before shutting the door behind him.

Sam curled up under the covers to wait for Dean. He stared at the bandage on his wrist, vowing then and there that he would never ever cut again. He absently rubbed at one of the older scars higher up on his arm until he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke to Dean's light kiss on his forehead and the overwhelming smell of burgers. He sat up and his stomach growled. Dean chuckled. "I thought you'd be hungry."

He sat down on the bed next to Sam and opened up the Wendy's bag. Sam took a giant bite of his burger and moaned, rolling his eyes up into his head in exaggerated ecstasy. While he chewed, Dean took something else out of the bag.

"What's this?" Sam asked when Dean handed a box to him.

"New cell phones," Dean explained. "Wanted to make this a clean break, you know? And plus it's about time you got one too, especially if you're going to be making friends at your new high school." He smiled.

Sam was amazed at how much Dean would do for him. He stared at the box, one of those pay as you go phones, and then smiled, realizing what Dean had said.

"You mean it? I can go to school like a normal kid?"

“Yeah Sammy, just pick a city and I’ll take care of the rest. You wanna go there till you graduate so pick wisely.” Dean smirked.

Sam was ecstatic. Dean would settle down for him. At least till he graduated. This was the biggest favor Dean ever did for him. He didn’t know how to pay him back for this. But he could start with kisses.

“Thank you Dean. You dont know what this means to me.” Sam placed several pecks on Dean’s lips like biting his favorite food over and over again, not being able to get enough of it.

“It could be nice. I dunno. But you don't get to sell out on me when you find new friends okay? You always come back to me and sleep next to me.” Dean held Sam.

“That the only house rule?” Sam smirked joyfully.

“For now yeah. But you don’t get to ever break that rule Sam. I mean it. You always come back to me.” Dean got serious, need and love gushing out of his eyes.

Sam understood right then and there that this rule really was the only rule that would hurt Dean forever if he broke. He was more than happy to follow it. He would always want to come back to Dean. And Dean would always be there waiting for him. Every night.

“So… How are you gonna hunt?” Sam asked voice cracking with concern.

“I’ll take jobs in the area, I wont go far and will always come back every night.” Dean said, a little too restrictive for him, but he would manage.

Sam squeezed Dean tight.

“Thank you.” His stomach growled, breaking the mood and reminding him that he was still famished. He grinned sheepishly and took another bite of burger.

“So anywhere?” he asked. Dean nodded.

Sam chewed his lip, scrunching up his nose.

“Can we go to San Francisco?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “That was pretty fast, Sammy. Are you sure?”

Sam nodded. Positive. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Dean, but he’d been wanting to go to Stanford since one of his seven sixth grade teachers had mentioned college to him, and told him that he had “a shot at the ivies, or even Stanford”.

Maybe now that fantasy could become a little more realistic.

"Alright Sammy, San Francisco it is. Eat up. We're going out tonight. We need greens to stay alive you know. You might not be able to play, but I ain't letting you out of my sight." Dean chuckled. Pool always was the best way to strip some idiots off their greens.

Then Dean munched on his burgers like someone who just got out of the desert. Sam snorted when he saw a big drop of ketchup right on Dean's nose.

"Here, you've got.." Sam mumbled placing his thumb pad on Dean's nose and wiping off the ketchup and sucking on his thumb before sucking on Dean's lower lip. "I love how you eat Dean. Reminds me of sex." Sam laughed hysterically.

"Shut up." Dean didn't really mean it and he started laughing too. He knew he made way too much happy noises when he ate. But those fucking burgers were awesome.

After they were full and content, and Sam's color was back on his face, they decided to go to that bar they saw a few miles back. Dean grabbed his keys, his jacket and held Sam by his waist and helped him to the car. Not that he needed it anymore, the food and the sleep was like fast working medicine. He'd gathered enough energy to walk on his own and not look like he was on his death bed. Still Dean liked the feeling of Sam leaning on him.

They pulled out of the parking lot and made their way to the bar.

It was a total dive, dark and smoky and smelling like week old beer, but there were three pool tables, and Dean was dominating one of them. Sam sat on a stool by the jukebox, sipping on a coke and swinging his legs idly back and forth. He couldn't believe this was all happening. He watched Dean with a contended smile.

Dean was in his element here. He'd made nearly a thousand and they'd only been there two hours.

Sam did cringe every time a girl sidled up next to Dean. He knew it didn't mean anything, but Dean was his now, and those bar sluts weren't good enough to be touching him. Sam had to physically restrain himself from going over to Dean and wrapping his arms around him, letting everyone know he was off limits.

After the fourth chick that made a pass on Dean walked away, turned down and courage broken; Dean noticed the look on Sam's face. He looked like he was about to kill something. That girl…

Dean smirked and strutted towards him. "Jealous?"

"No, Dean shut up." Sam gritted his teeth, eyes still fixed on the girl. He gave Dean his signature bitchface and it only made him laugh more.

"Yeah, obviously you're not jealous at all. But I'm tired of this. Let's show them who I belong to, huh?" Dean said parting Sam's legs on the stool and settling between them. The stool was high enough for their faces to align while Sam was still seated and Dean was standing. He grabbed Sam by the waist with one of his hands, and by the back of his neck with the other. He pulled Sam in for a deep kiss, their groins brushing up against each other.

Dean couldn't care less that the three guys sitting at the bar were staring at them, jaws dropped, and that all the hot girls let out disappointed sighs.

Dean broke apart with a smile. "Yours." he whispered.

Sam snaked his arms around Dean's waist, kissing back.

"Mine," he purred when he pulled back.

Dean took Sam's hands and pulled him up from the stool.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked as Dean led him over to the pool table.

Dean grinned, kissing Sam on the cheek. "Just putting you where you belong." He let Sam's arms drape around his waist as he racked the balls. Sam buried his face in Dean's shoulder blade to hide the insane grin that was bursting off his face.

"Now Sammy, you wanna make this a little more fun?" Dean grinned at Sam slipping out of his embrace.

"What do you mean?" Sam replied, a little confused.

"Let's see. If I win,  _you're_  gonna take  _me_  to the restroom." Dean winked, before he continued. "If you win,  _I'm_  gonna take  _you_  to the restroom. Catch my drift?" Dean said licking his lips.

Sam got the point. And he smiled sheepishly. Before he could say anything, Dean added: "Since your arm is not really an advantage, I'm gonna give you two scores from the beginning. The other five is all yours to handle." Dean shot another smile.

"Alright, break 'em, big brother." Sam said cockily, picking up a cue.

Dean broke them, and got one of the solids in. Then he went on and took off two of the striped balls and dropped them in one of the pockets.

"Alright Sammy, I got my solids, and I got your two scores out of the way. Let's play pool." Then he shot one more solid to a pocket, and missed the next one.

"My turn, Dean, you're gonna regret giving me two scores." Sam smiled calculating his shot. Dean came closer and grabbed Sam's ass as he was preparing to make his shot.

"Hey!" Sam bucked forward hitting the table.

"I didn't say there were no distractions Sammy, I'm not gonna make this easy for you." Dean whispered pressing his crotch on Sam's ass and reaching forward to catch Sam's earlobe with his lips.

Sam let out a gasp and pushed Dean away. "I should've known you were playing by the Winchester rules. You haven't played an honest game in your life." Sam laughed and got his ball into the pocket, moving onto the next one.

He shot one more, and missed the next.

"Shit.. I gotta up my game." Dean said with a fake worry. Then he pocketed three balls in a row and looked at the table with a goofy smile. Two more, and he could have Sam's lush red lips around his cock.

He calculated his move and leaned over to make his shot. Then he felt a hand reaching for his crotch from behind. Sam was pressed against him and he squeezed Dean's bulge, making Dean miss the shot.

"Hah… Apparently, I'm great at Winchester rules too." Sam chuckled.

Then Sam went on and pocketed two more balls, leaving one more striped and the 8-ball to go. Dean pocketed the rest of his, and he was now working for the 8-ball. Sam's tongue creeped up from his side, and licked a trace on his neck making him shiver and miss the shot.

Sam pocketed the last striped, and there was only the 8-ball left on the table.

"Well.. You're taking me to the restroom after all, Dean." Sam said in a husky voice, and pocketed the 8-ball in his designated pocket, winning the game.

"Fuck… I was so eager for those lips." Dean said, clearly disappointed. He taught Sam way too well, and it was coming back and biting him in the ass, now of all times, when there was a reward at the end.  _Fuck, fuck fuck._ Dean thought.

"Told you not to underestimate me," Sam smirked, looping his fingers through Dean's belt loops and pulling him close. He wiggled his hips, grinding himself into Dean. They were both painfully hard. Sam dragged Dean towards the bathroom. "I am so looking forward to this," he licked his lips, those perfect, full, pink lips that fit perfectly around Dean and... dammit Dean wished he'd won that game.

But he followed Sam into the bathroom and allowed himself to be shoved to the floor. Sam leaned back against the wall as Dean unzipped his jeans. Dean freed Sam from his boxers and immediately took him into his mouth.

"Ungh Dean," Sam groaned as Dean licked a wet stripe up his length. He thrust himself forward, holding Dean's head steady. "Dean more."

Dean swirled his tongue around the tip of Sam's cock, drinking down his precum. Sam was pulsing, so close to climax. Dean bobbed his head a few more times and then pulled away, smirking, and leaving Sam panting.

"Dean!" he cried, clawing for Dean to bring him back. Sam should have known Dean wouldn't play fair. Dean stood up and kissed Sam on the lips, pressing into him and trapping his achingly hard cock between their bodies. Sam groaned. "Dean... need you.. please!" he begged into Dean's kiss.

Dean tortured him a bit longer, and then gave in and returned to his cock. He licked the tip slowly, and then sucked down Sam's entire length. Sam braced himself on the wall as he shot forward into Dean's waiting mouth. Dean swallowed gush after gush of Sam's sweet cum.

Maybe losing the game hadn't been so bad after all.

Sam was completely spent. He slid down on the wall falling to where Dean was on his knees. "Mmmh… Perfect… So w-worth winning that game." Sam panted, eyes closed and head fallen back.

Dean grabbed Sam by the arms and pulled him up. When they were both standing, and Sam caught his breath, he looked down on Dean's cock pressing up against his jeans, aching and begging to go out.

He cupped Dean's length over his jeans and rubbed.

"Stop, Sam, I… I'm gonna cum in my pants." Dean growled grabbing Sam's hand over his cock. "I wanna fuck you… Sammy, right here. I can't wait till we go back to the motel. I need you, now." Dean charged forward onto Sam's neck. He was forceful and violent drawing blood up to the surface of Sam's skin with each bite and suck. His hands traveled down to Sam's pants, and yanked them down, turning Sam around and slamming him against the bathroom door. Sam groaned with pleasure. His weight on the door would stop anybody from walking in on them, but unfortunately would not prevent their sounds from going out. Sam's cheek was pressed against the door, his ass waiting for Dean to claim it.

"I… We don't have lube, Sammy, tell me if it hurts." Dean shoved a finger up Sam's hole and Sam bucked forward with a feeling of mixed pain and pleasure, it drove him crazy. He was already hard again.

Before he knew it, Dean had shoved up two more fingers, stretching Sam out eliciting loud moans and hisses from him. He wiped the precum on the tip of his cock to wet it, then he aligned his cock with Sam's hole.

"Here we go." Dean growled and pushed in with one hard motion. "Ahhh Dean!" Sam's arm shot back and grabbed Dean's ass. That death grip of Sam's would definitely leave a bruise.

Dean pounded into Sam, his movements beginning to ease after a while. His cock brushed up against Sam's spot and Sam gave out another groan.

"Mhmmm Sammy, s-so tight!" Dean shouted out. He felt his orgasm building up in him and reached around to jerk Sam off to his rhythm.

A few moments later Dean bucked his hips forward deep into Sam shooting his seed violently down Sam's hole, filling him up, feeling Sam shoot his load on his hand. He milked Sam till Sam's knees went weak and his hole's pulses slowed down around his throbbing cock. He slowly pulled out trying not to hurt Sam and pulled his pants up around his ankles. "T-that was fuck— amazing." Dean huffed out.

Sam cleaned himself up, still feeling the afterglow of two amazing orgasms and walked out after Dean.

It took them four days to get to San Francisco. They spent two nights in Las Vegas, and Dean accumulated a nice sum of cash playing blackjack. When they finally made it to their destination, they checked into another cheap motel. Dean flopped down on the bed motioning for Sam to follow him.

"School starts in two weeks," he said as Sam settled into his arms. Sam didn't know where Dean was going with that. They'd talked about this in the car. Sam would go to school, Dean would get a job, and they'd try to find a place to live, a permanent place. Dean bowed his head into Sam's neck. "I'm going to miss you," Dean's voice was so quiet that if Sam hadn't been paying attention he would have missed it. He smiled and twisted around in Dean's arms.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean," he kissed Dean lightly, "I promise. I'll never leave you. We said we'll be together every night, and I mean it."


	7. Us Against the World

**18 Months Later**

Sam rubbed absently at one of the nearly faded scars on his wrist. It had become a nervous habit, though not something he did frequently. But now, sitting in the admissions office of Stanford University, he was shaking with nerves. Dean had been planning to come with him, but a hunt had popped up in Sacramento. He promised he’d be home when Sam got back though.

Home. It was still a strange word. Sam had to pinch himself sometimes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, that they really had been living in their one bedroom apartment in San Bruno for a year and a half, that the entire time he’d been going to San Mateo Union high school and now he was applying to fucking _Stanford_ , and he actually had a decent chance of getting in.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out to read the text. “I love you baby, good luck,” Dean wrote. Sam smiled and walked into the interview room.

When he finally walked out, he was soaked with nervous sweat, and pure bliss. It went better than he hoped. The interviewer had said that he had a great chance of getting in, and he was a bright young man.  _A bright young man…_ Sam thought. And he smiled as he got his phone out and dialed Dean’s number. 

After waiting for a few seconds, Dean picked up with his most elated voice.

“So how was it baby? Did you kill it? I mean the interview…” Dean chuckled.

“Yeah! It went well, I think I might have a shot at a full ride, Dean.” Sam chirped to the phone.

“I’m heading home right now, when are you getting back?” Sam asked, anxious to be in Dean’s arms again.

“I’m already home Sammy, I have a surprise for you.” Dean said huskily.

“I’ll be right there.” Sam said, hanging up and started to pace towards the bus stop. He was home in 20 minutes.

He almost couldn’t get the key to fit in the door, he walked in to what seemed to be an empty house. The light was dim, and Dean was not in the hallway, or in the living room. “Dean?” he shouted, but there was no answer.

He checked the kitchen, and then saw the light flickering under the closed bedroom door. He felt a wave of relief surge through him, and opened the bedroom door.

He couldn’t help but smile at what he saw. Dean was lying on the bed, with only his boxers on, leaning on his elbow and he had this small pot in front of him, being kept heated by the small fire underneath it. He immediately smelt the chocolate, and his eyes went looking for the strawberries that he knew were there somewhere. Yeah… There they were, hiding behind the fondue pot.

“Dean… This is… We don’t even know if I got it yet.” Sam exhaled, a blissful smile taking its place on his face. 

“I’m pretty damn sure you got it, college boy.” Dean smirked and gestured at him to come over. Sam walked over and climbed on the bed, next to Dean. He reached over Dean and grabbed one of the strawberries, dipping it into chocolate and trying to get it into his mouth before Dean grabbed his wrist. 

“Nu-uh! You’re not eating them on your own.” Dean mumbled and took the strawberry from Sam’s hand, and placed it on his mouth. Then he tilted his head, and kissed Sam, getting him to take it from his mouth, and kiss him at the same time. Their kiss sweetened with the taste of warm chocolate and juicy strawberry.

“Are we gonna eat them all like this?” Sam asked, jokingly.

“I’m confident we can find other ways too.” Dean shifted on the bed, and straddled Sam’s thighs pinning him to the bed.

Sam had grown over the last year. He was taller than Dean now, though Dean refused to admit it. He had bulked up too, even though he'd stopped hunting, and when he and Dean trained together, Dean didn't have to pretend to lose anymore, he actually had to try pretty hard to win.

Sam could have flipped Dean over and had his way with him right there, but he preferred when Dean took control. Dean slid his hands up under Sam's shirt and raised it up over his head. He trailed kisses down Sam's tanned chest and reached for another strawberry. Some of the chocolate dripped on Sam as he lifted the berry to Sam's mouth, so he licked it up with his tongue. Sam quivered with pleasure as Dean's tongue found his nipple. 

Sam swallowed the strawberry and ground his hips up into Dean. 

"Dean," Sam groaned. Dean started to unbutton his jeans. "Dean, fuck I have a history paper to write," he complained halfheartedly, then moaned as Dean's hands worked their way into his pants.

Dean chuckled. "I think that can wait." He dove in for Sam's cock hungrily.

Dean helped Sam get out of his clothes, hungry, ripping them apart. Sam didn’t mind. He loved to be taken care of. Then Dean’s hands went for another strawberry. He dipped it in chocolate and placed it on Sam’s chest, as Sam responded to the warmness with a whimper. Then he licked his way up Sam’s stomach, and sucked the strawberry from Sam’s chest, as he laid there watching and grabbing Dean’s hair. 

“Dean… More..” Sam pleaded. And Dean happily obeyed. Another strawberry melted into their kiss, making them feast on two different kinds of desire. Then Dean’s head dove down to engulf Sam’s hard cock. He pinned Sam’s eager hips down, and started bobbing his head, hollowing out his cheeks, still tasting Sam’s lips, the strawberries and the chocolate, now mixed up with Sam’s musk. 

Sam was close… So fucking close. Dean had the most talented mouth, his tongue circling around the glistening head, then tracing the vein when he deepthroated him. But Dean didn’t allow him to reach the peak. Not yet…

He quickly slipped out of his boxers and laid on top of Sam, grinding his cock onto Sam’s and moaning into the kisses. 

Sam reached over and dipped 2 of his fingers into chocolate, and let Dean lick him clean, sucking on his fingers as he ground on Sam’s throbbing cock. Then he dipped again, and smeared them on Dean’s lower lip, and took control of the kisses, licking at Dean’s lips, begging for entrance, and it was granted almost immediately. When they broke apart, a little piece of chocolate was on Sam’s lip.

“Lemme..” Dean mumbled without finishing his sentence, and went for another kiss as he felt his orgasm building up inside him. He didn’t want to cum yet, so he sat up on Sam’s legs. 

“Turn around baby, we still have more strawberries.” Dean said, helping Sam lay on his stomach, his cheek pressed against the soft pillows waiting for Dean to take him.

Dean took 2 more strawberries, and dipped them in chocolate. He wanted to try this for months. But he also wanted to save this for the special occasion. It was this little kink of his for months now. 

When Sam turned around and laid on the sheets, these 2 little dimples showed themselves, just above his amazing ass. They were perfectly aligned, begging Dean to be licked and sucked. So he placed the two strawberries right on top of them, and smiled. Then lowered his head and swallowed one, sucking at the dimples.

“God..! Dea— Ahh!” Sam clenched the sheets and buried his face to the pillow, shaking under Dean with unbearable pleasure. The friction on his cock was beyond comprehension.

Dean did the same with the other dimple, and his cock twitched at the feeling. 

“You ready baby?” Dean asked, leaning on Sam and whispering into his ear, his cock slightly pushing on Sam’s ass. 

“God! Yes! Yes, Dean, come on.. fuck me!” Sam panted thrusting his hips upward.

“Okay Sammy, come on.” Dean put his arm around Sam’s waist and helped him get on all fours. Then he reached for the lube and slicked his fingers, pushing into Sam.

After Sam was all stretched out, Dean pushed his cock in, mesmerized by the warm tight flesh covering him. Sam shot back, grinding on Dean’s cock, begging for movement.

Dean leaned over Sam, aligning their bodies perfectly, and then slowly began thrusting into Sam. Sam ground harder into Dean, silently begging him for more, so Dean sped up his pace. He slammed into Sam over and over, eliciting sounds of pain and pleasure. Sam's arms gave out and he fell forward into the bed, clawing at the sheets. 

Dean sucked a bruise into Sam's neck, and another into the sensitive spot under his ear. Sam reached blindly for Dean's hand, begging for release. Dean obliged, stroking Sam's cock in time with his thrusts. 

"Gonna cum," Dean groaned and Sam bucked against him. He thrust again, coming hard into Sam and then helping his brother through his orgasm. They collapsed against each other panting. "So good baby," Dean mumbled, running his fingers through Sam's sweat damp hair. All Sam could do was nod in agreement. 

In this moment, he wasn't worried about Stanford. In fact he frankly didn't give a fuck if he got in or not, because really, Dean was all he needed. He pushed himself off of Dean and turned around so he was facing him. Then he kissed him, long and sweet.

“You better not get into any more colleges Sammy… I don’t think I can pull off another one of these… God, that was perfect.” Dean sighed holding his brother in his arms. He felt Sam chuckle in his arms.

When he finally gathered up the will to get off the bed, he put the fire off, and carried the pot in, but he left the strawberries in the bedroom. They were too good to waste.

Dean slithered back into bed, and held Sam, tight. Sam rested his head on Dean’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. They fed each other until there were no strawberries left, occasionally sweetening them with passionate kisses, then they drifted off to sleep, peaceful, warm and full.

2 weeks later, an envelope showed up in the mailbox. Dean had just gotten back from another hunt, and Sam was at school. When he saw the letter, a weight sank down in his stomach. He grabbed the letter, and drove to the highschool. 

After talking to the vice principal, who was an older man with a face that Dean would love to punch in, he paced to Sam’s classroom, with a permission slip in one hand, and the letter in the other.

He knocked, and got in. He didn’t fit in that environment, and he was annoyed by all the eyes staring at him. He handed the clueless teacher the slip, and waved at Sam. Obviously he was puzzled. 

Sam’s mind raced through a billion ideas when he saw Dean come in, and came up with the most horrifying scenarios… Did something happen to Bobby? Or Dad? Or… was something wrong with Dean? Then he clumsily gathered all his stuff, and paced out of the classroom. 

“What? What’s wrong Dean? Did something happen? Who died?” Sam blurted out in a second. Dean had this expression in his eyes… He was expecting something… Or hoping for something… Sam couldn’t figure out what, until Dean waved the letter to his face. Then he froze. 

"Is that...?" he motioned speechless at the envelope. Dean nodded, and handed it to Sam. It was thick and heavy. Thick was good, he thought. They wouldn't send you lots of papers if you got rejected, right?

He stared at the red and green logo. A Christmas tree. Who the hell's mascot was a Christmas tree? That was hardly intimidating--

He realized he was procrastinating opening the envelope, and Dean was standing there anxiously, rocking on the balls of his feet. So he slowly slid his finger under the flap and pulled out the letter.

"Dear Mr. Winchester," he read aloud. "We are pleased to offer you admission to our--holy shit Dean I got in!" He cried and launched himself at his brother. Dean caught him in a crushing hug.

"I knew you would," Dean breathed into a mouthful of Sam's hair. His grin was wide with pride. 

Sam pulled back, still comfortably wrapped in Dean's embrace, and continued reading the letter. "We are pleased to offer you admission to our university. In the following week you will be receiving your financial aid package. We hope that you will join the class of 2005. Please let us know if you accept this offer by May 1. Classes begin on the 17th of September, 2001."

Sam buried his head into Dean's shoulder. He couldn't believe this was real. He was going to Stanford. 

He didn't care who saw, he had to kiss Dean. So he did, right there in the hallway.

They broke apart, and Dean looked at Sam with pride in his eyes. Who would’ve thought… Such a fucked up family, raising such a great man. 

Since Dean had practically raised him, he even felt more pride fill him up. Sam was his.. And Sam would have a real future. Together with him… That was fucking awesome.

Since Dean got the vice principal to give Sam the rest of the day off when Dean glared at him and gritted his teeth, they went to grab lunch. Dean truly believed that the whole cutting thing, and the almost dying incident was behind them, that Sam was truly happy again. And it made him feel like they were above the clouds. 

Finally… He was succeeding at keeping Sam safe, and making him happy. He got Sam out, safe and sound, before anything worse happened. They still trained, because you couldn’t just ignore the danger, but Sam was not looking for it either anymore. It was Dean’s job.

He missed Sam having his back sometimes, but then he would shake his head, and tell him to stop being a selfish prick. And they would be happy again.

This was one of those days. Dean watched as Sam munched on his food, and smiled. He felt accomplished, responsible. 

Sam couldn't shake the warm tingly feeling that was rushing through him, and he didn't really want to.  _Stanford!_  He just couldn't believe it.

Over lunch he and Dean talked logistics. Where they lived now was about twenty minutes away from Stanford on the Caltrain, so Sam suggested commuting. He was torn, on one hand he couldn't bear being away from Dean, but he did want to have the college experience, living in a dorm and all. Still he saw the way Dean's face fell just a little when Sam talked about living apart, Sam knew he couldn't do that. 

They talked about Sam's major. He was thinking about Psychology, or History, with a Classics minor, and definitely pre-law. Frankly it all went way over Dean's head, but he didn't care. He was so proud of Sam.

A week later Sam got the letter that he'd gotten a full ride. He sent his response to Stanford right then, and he and Dean had celebratory sex on the kitchen table. Dean was growing quite fond of the "College Boy" nickname. 


	8. Chapter 8

On the first day, Dean drove Sam to school, on other days he would still use the Caltrain but the first day drive had been a tradition for them ever since Dean learned how to drive. Dad was always out on a hunt on first days, actually most days, and Dean would hot wire a car and drive them to school, and when Dean had the Impala, the first day drive was the best thing ever. 

Dean dropped Sam off in front of the building he had his first class in, but clung on Sam’s arm as he tried to go out of the car. “Aren’t you gonna say goodbye, Sammy?” he asked with his puppy dog eyes. He sucked at making the puppy dog face so Sam chuckled at Dean’s overly stretched face.

“Love you, Dean.” Sam said placing a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips, which turned into a passionate one almost immediately. They broke apart smiling, and Sam left.

Dean drove home, he didn’t want to go hunting today, so he settled in front of the TV with a beer in his hand. He relaxed, and enjoyed his self-granted day off. He dozed off in front of it couple of hours later after his fourth beer. He was still sleeping when Sam came back.

He heard Dean’s light snoring, and tiptoed his way to Dean’s side. He started peppering kisses all over Dean’s face and Dean’s eyes fluttered open. A smile settled on his sleepy face. “Welcome back baby, how’s the fancy college life?” he asked.

Sam let his books drop to the ground with a thud and sat down next to Dean. 

"It's awesome Dean! My professors are so cool, and I love my classes. Especially ihum, that's this humanities class where we talk about literary themes, and I really like Latin because I'm definitely the best in my class. Dean they have these coffee shops all over and fountains and you can sit and read and there are so many people!"

Dean laughed at Sam's excitement. He was so glad that his brother was happy. And so proud. 

Sam settled in next to Dean, still beaming. 

"Did you make any friends?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, there's this girl named Ashley, and a guy named Alex. They're pretty cool. I think you'd like them."

Dean turned his head and caught Sam's lips in a tender kiss. He reached his hands around Sam's waist, pulling him up onto his lap. Sam kissed back, but then pulled away. 

"Dean," he whined, "I have homework!"

Dean's hands fell to his sides. "Yeah, yeah you should do that," he said deflatedly.

Sam kissed him again. "I'll be done soon, I promise." And he pushed himself off of Dean and rooted through his bag for his homework. 

Sam buried his head in his homework, doing it faster than lightning to save as much time as he can for Dean, and meanwhile Dean got the frozen pizza out of the freezer and waited for it to defrost a little watching Sam wrinkle his face when he’s reading. Then he tossed the pizza in the microwave and got 2 other beers out of the fridge. When he heard the click of the microwave, he took the pizza out and split the slices equally on giant plates and juggled the plates and the beers to Sam’s side. He set them on the coffee table and leaned towards Sam’s ear nipping and licking it. “Come on college boy, let’s get some food in you.” He chuckled as he pushed the plate towards Sam.

Sam tossed his pen aside, smiling at Dean and got the plate, settling on Dean’s chest on the couch, his plate resting right under his chin. They ate in silence in front of the TV, warming with bodies pressed against each other. 

“Are you done with the whole book and homework thing? I kinda wanted to go out tonight. I promise we won’t be out too late Sammy, I’ll get you home at 11, so you can get your beauty sleep.” Dean laughed at his own remark, thinking he was the funniest hot piece of ass in the world. “I’ll even let you have the whole public display of affection thing?” He laughed again, but he meant it.

Sam grinned. “Yeah I’m pretty much done. Where do you want to go?”

Dean shrugged. “Have you heard about any good bars in Palo Alto?”

Ashley had been talking about something, he couldn’t remember the name, but she said they didn’t card (though it didn’t matter because Sam had had a fake since he was 14) and that lots of Stanford kids hung out there. It could be fun. 

Dean kissed Sam, running his hands through Sam’s hair. “Go get ready, baby.”  
  
They got to the bar about an hour later. Dean slipped his arm around Sam’s waist and led him inside. 

“This is not what I expected.” Dean said eyeing the people around. There were a lot of college kids, most looked like they were around Sam’s age, only some a little older. But then Sam already looked like he was Dean’s age, so that wasn’t really a standard. They were in groups chatting loudly and laughing, and all the hot chicks were tripping.

If Dean wasn’t in love with Sam, this would be a get laid paradise. But not anymore. He held tighter onto Sam and lead him to the bar. 

“What do you mean? You don’t like it?” Sam asked worriedly.

“No that’s not it… There aren’t any dumb truckers I can hustle here… Man, I was looking to leave with a few bills in my pocket.” Dean said smiling. “Well, since there’s no hustle tonight, I don’t feel like pool if I’m not getting paid, we gotta get ourselves a corner booth.” Dean smirked thinking of all the things he will do to Sam under the table.

Sam let out a relieved sigh and leaned on the bar, asking for 2 beers. “Good, and I might even take you up on that public display of affection proposal.” Sam joked, oblivious to Dean’s imagination cooking up all kinds of things that could be done in public.

“You better…” Dean whispered and grabbed their beers, while Sam gave the bartender the money and they walked towards an empty booth. Dean waited for Sam to sit, and slid next to him, cornering him, getting everybody from out of Sam’s sight. They were so close Sam could feel Dean’s breath on his face.

Sam glanced around the bar. There were lots of other couples, as many gay as straight, so he and Dean didn't stick out. Not that he really cared, because Dean would probably have decked anyone who said anything. 

Sam smiled and leaned in to kiss Dean. He heard a loud whoop behind him and turned around to see Alex looking at him from the bar.

"Damn, Winchester!" he called out.

Sam ducked his head into Dean's shoulder, blushing crimson. "And that would be Alex," he groaned. Alex made his way over to them, grinning cheekily. Dean raised an eyebrow, snaking his arm rather protectively around Sam's shoulders. 

Sam waved at him, face still red. "Alex, this is Dean, my bro--ah boyfriend," he hastily corrected himself. Dean reached out his hand to shake Alex's. Then he kissed Sam on the cheek and pulled him closer as Alex sat down in their booth. 

"So are you in college? You live nearby?" Alex asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, not smart enough. Not like Sammy here," he chuckled, squeezing Sam's shoulder. "And I live--"

Sam cut him off. "We live together."

Dean filled with warmth. He hadn't expected Sam to be so forthcoming about their relationship. He hadn't even realized he'd been worried until Sam answered the question. Knowing that Sam was going to be so open about them to his friends, it erased any doubt from Dean's mind. He wasn't going to lose Sam to college.

So Dean relaxed, and got more comfortable focusing on the kid and the conversation. He seemed decent, not the freak type, or the douche type. He was nice, and Dean felt content that Sam was around nice people that wont hurt him. Dean was warming up to the idea of Sam being in college. 

First they were talking about classes and homework, and Dean kept silent. He watched the enthusiasm on Sam’s face, he watched him and Sam’s happiness passed on to him. He smiled more, acted nicer to Alex. Everything was going great.

They had a couple of more beers and Alex went back to his table, leaving the two to each other. 

“So… What do you think?” Sam asked, his eyes yearning for approval, filled with hope.

“He looks… decent.” Dean said smiling. “It’s nice seeing you make friends Sammy. Friends that are not Bobby’s age, and friends that don’t have beer bellies hanging out from their flannels. You fit in here.” Dean’s voice dropped to a whisper, realizing that he didn’t. Sam fit in here perfectly, but there was no place for Dean, he was just holding Sam back. He felt guilty. It hurt like a bitch.

Sam picked up on it the second Dean said the words. He buried his face in Dean’s neck. “And you fit in with me. You’re mine.” Sam mumbled into Dean’s neck.

Dean felt his pain ease. Sam didn’t feel that way. _Thank god…_ He thought. 

“So, baby, how about we… shake things up a bit?” Dean whispered as his hand snaked down over to Sam’s cock, grabbing it over his pants.

A gasp escaped Sam’s lips, then he put on his straight face. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?” he said his face emotionless like a wall. 

“Oh yes you will.” Dean whispered, his voice husky and warm on Sam’s face.

“Well, fuck.” Sam smiled, feeling his hardening cock push up against his jeans. He was grateful that the lights were dim, and the booth was almost invisible to most people.

Dean's fingers deftly undid Sam's jeans button and worked his fingers inside. He leaned close into Sam, shielding them further from any curious bystanders. He tugged Sam free of his pants--no boxers, since Dean had decided they were too much of a hindrance--and quickly got to work stroking as Sam struggled to keep a straight face.

"Shit Dean, 'm so hard," he groaned into Dean's shoulder. Dean chuckled and pecked Sam's cheek. 

"Someone has a bit of an exhibitionist fetish?" He teased.

Sam blushed and mumbled, "Shut up," as Dean sped up his strokes. He sucked in a breath and bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud.

"Fuck Dean," he mouthed at Dean's collarbone to muffle himself. Dean's other hand slid up under Sam's shirt, tracing a slow line up his abdomen and to his chest. His thumb circled one of Sam's tightly budded nipples and Sam's hips jerked against him.

"Dean," it came out as a plea. Dean stroked faster, and Sam bit down on his shoulder as he came, spilling hot seed all over Dean's hand. He leaned into Dean as after waves rolled through him. "Fuck," he breathed. 

Dean smiled and lifted his hand to his mouth to lick it clean. Sam's shaky breathing on his neck went straight to his dick. "Shit Sam, we need to get home. Now." 

Now it was Sam's turn to chuckle as he kissed Dean quick on the lips and grinned, "Yeah, I think that would be a good idea."

Dean got up and grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling him out of the booth. They said goodbye to Alex as they were making their way to the exit. 

Dean struggled to get his keys out of his pocket as Sam stroked his cock over his jeans, pressing his own cock to Dean’s ass from behind. “Fuck Sammy, I gotta have you.” Dean’s voice cracked with his labored breaths.

Dean shoved Sam away and quickly got into the driver’s seat. “Come on!” he shouted waiting for Sam to get in. 

Sam settled in the passenger seat as Dean fired up the engine, and stepped on the pedal making the tires scream and leave burnt tire smell and smoke behind. It was still a 20 minute drive home, and Dean intended to make that 10 minutes.

Sam’s hand traveled on Dean’s thigh, and grabbed his cock, unzipping, and letting Dean’s cock free. “Fuck, Sam, you gonna make me crash!” Dean pleaded as he bucked his hips forward, trying to keep his eyes open, and both hands on the wheel.

“Well it’s my turn to torture you.” Sam smirked and leaned down to engulf Dean’s cock. The Impala trailed off road a bit when Dean felt Sam’s warmth around him. 

“God Sam, what are ya tryin’ to do?” Dean whispered and one of his hands grabbed Sam’s hair, pressing his nails on Sam’s skull with pleasure.

Sam looked up and licked his lips. “Trying to get you to find a dark alley, and get you to pull over.” He said it like it was pretty obvious and how could Dean not think of it?

At the first sight of a silent neighborhood with a dark alley, Dean turned the car around and drove into the dark. When they stopped, Dean turned off the headlights, and trapped Sam between him and the passenger door, forcing his tongue in Sam’s mouth. “Out, now.” Dean commanded, and they both got out of the car.

Dean went around and got in front of the car placing a hand on Impala’s hood, it was still hot from the engine’s heat. Dean tapped on it twice, and Sam got the message. He leaned on it, both hands on the hood, and waited as Dean unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans dropping them to his ankles, all with reaching from behind grinding onto Sam’s ass. “No lube, Sammy.” Dean winced. That detail was the most important thing. He mumbled a few curses at himself.

“It’s ok, I can lube you up.” Sam said, and turned around. He dropped to his knees, unbuttoning Dean’s jeans again.  _When did he button them again?_ he thought, but that was not important.

He smacked his lips then deepthroated Dean in one go making sure he slicked Dean’s cock each time he bobbed his head. Dean’s hand pressed on his head pushing him forward, and started mouthfucking him. “Mmh.. Sammy. ‘M close. We gotta do it right now or I won’t—” he mumbled and Sam released his cock, and got up, leaning back on the Impala’s now warm hood. 

“Fuck me Dean.” he ordered, and Dean followed, aligning his cock with Sam’s puckered hole.

Sam braced himself as Dean pushed into him. It stung, but he was expecting it. Dean was going too slowly so he took control and pushed his ass back against Dean's cock, pulling him deeper inside. Dean's nails dug into Sam's hips as he thrust forward. He paused when was balls deep inside Sam. 

"Come on Dean, fuck me," Sam groaned, squeezing his eyes tight shut. Dean wound his fingers through Sam's hair, turning his head so he could kiss him bruisingly on the lips.

"Ready, baby?"

Sam nodded frantically and Dean pulled back, then slammed back in. His fingers left deep bruises over Sam's hipbones as he thrust in over and over. Sam clawed at the hood of the car gasping and groaning as Dean pounded his prostate over and over. His own dick was hard and leaking precum.

Dean's hands clenched hard on his hips as he slammed forward one last time, shooting cum deep inside Sam. Sam whimpered with desperate need, reaching for Dean's hand. Dean got the message and snaked his hand around Sam's stomach, pulling him upright. He held Sam against him, dick still tight in Sam's ass, and started jacking Sam again. Sam fell weakly against Dean, writhing with pleasure as Dean sucked a chain of bruises down his neck. 

Finally Dean gave Sam the release he was so desperately craving and Sam came hard, spurting cum all over the hood of the Impala. He collapsed into Dean, who had to lean against the car to support them both on his own weak legs.

After catching their breaths and starting to feel the autumn cold on their raw skins, Dean helped Sam pull his jeans back up, and made him lean on the hood as he pulled his own jeans up. Then he held Sam’s arm and put it over his shoulder, helping his brother walk back to the passenger seat, and helped him climb up. It was obvious that Sam was still having his afterwaves of his orgasm. He was too… He just had to get them out of the cold. 

“Fuck.. Sammy, that was hot.” Dean huffed while firing the engine up.

“I know… I was there.” Sam said, letting his head fall back.

“Yeah, twice.” Dean smirked and Sam bumped his shoulder to Dean’s.

“Shut up.” he mumbled before drifting off to sleep.

Dean drove them home and parked the car out front. “Come on baby, wake up, we’re home. Just a few steps and then we can lay you down on the bed, huh?” Dean said stroking Sam’s hair. Sam slowly opened his eyes. “Hmm?” he got out groggily and made his way to the door, and waited for Dean to unlock it. 

Dean unlocked the door, and let Sam in, walking after him, and checking all the salt lines before guiding Sam to their bed. He stripped Sam of all of his clothes, and opened up the sheets for him as Sam slid in, completely naked. Dean did the same and a minute later they were curled up into each other comforted by each other’s warmth and deep in sleep.

Sam's first month of school flew past in a blur. He loved all his classes, and had gotten a job on the school newspaper. He had become good friends with Ashley and Alex, often spending time in their dorm rooms after classes to work on homework, or play video games. But every night he went home to Dean, keeping his promise. 

Until Halloween.

The Monday before the holiday he and Dean were eating Chinese takeout when he brought it up. 

"So there's this big Halloween full moon party on Wednesday at midnight, and I kinda wanted to go," he chewed his lip waiting for Dean's response.

Dean frowned slightly but waited for Sam to continue.

"Alex offered to let me stay with him, after the party because it will be too late for the Caltrain--"

"I could drive you," Dean cut in.

Sam looked away. He knew Dean wouldn't take this well.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise, but I really want to do this. Please?" Sam hated bringing out the puppy dog eyes, but it was the only way he could get Dean to agree. Dean felt a tightness in his throat. He knew he should let Sam go. Sam was in college after all, he should have fun with his friends. And he really did look disappointed that he would be ditching Dean for the night.

This was the first time in two years that they would be apart, and Dean couldn't help feeling like this was the beginning of the end.

But he found himself nodding. "Yeah, okay, have fun and don't do anything stupid."

Sam leaped up from his seat and embraced Dean in a tight hug. "I  _promise_  I'll make it up to you."

Wednesday night came fast. Sam went home after class to get ready and he and Dean had dinner together before he left for the party. There were a bunch of kids in Alex's room when he got there, and the fridge was stocked with beer. He grabbed a can and joined his friend. All of the girls and some guys had dressed up for Halloween, in various forms of slutty outfits for the girls, and poorly constructed werewolves and zombies for the guys. Sam wasn't really a fan of costumes, especially since he'd seen more than enough real monsters in his life, so he opted for his usual flannel and denim. 

He made his way over to Alex. "So how does this whole Full Moon on the Quad thing work anyway?" he called over the noise.

Alex grinned. "Basically everyone gets trashed and then goes out on the quad at midnight and tries to hook up with as many chicks as possible. Or dudes," he amended, raising an eyebrow at Sam. 

"Oh," Sam blanched, wishing he'd known that before. 

Alex could read the look of discomfort on Sam's face. He punched Sam lightly in the arm. "Come on Sam, it's not like it means anything. You hook up with a bunch of drunk people, no one remembers it in the morning, it's like it never happened, right?"

“No, dude, not exactly.” Sam frowned. Maybe he should’ve taken Dean up on his offer to drive him. He shifted with an unnerving discomfort. “Maybe I should head home when you guys go out. Dean said he could pick me up.” Sam said. He was torn. Maybe he could stay and just not hook up? Walk around and drink?

“Hey, hey, hey, Sam. It’s Halloween man. Have some fun. Dean doesn’t have to know. I’m sure you wont even know the next morning.” Alex said hitting Sam’s shoulder lightly with his fist and chugged the rest of his beer. 

“Alright alright, I’ll stay. But don’t expect me to hook up man, I’m serious.” Sam said, he really was serious and he wanted Alex to understand it. Alex looked at him, and huffed. “Fine, man, miss out on the fun. Your loss.” 

Beer after beer slided down Sam’s throat. He spent too much time with Dean that learned to keep his liquor in. So the alcohol slowly traveled in his blood, numbing him out, making him sloppy, and clouding his judgement. 

The guys took Sam with them when they went out to hook up. Sam was wondering around, drinking, laughing at guys getting turned down, and other guys rolling around on the sidewalk. 

Alex found a girl who was not so drunk and pointed her towards Sam. She walked up to him, with a policewoman outfit revealing almost everything. She was persistent. She just didn’t take no for an answer. Besides, Sam was way out of his head, he couldn’t even spell “go away” if they asked him right now. The next thing he knew he was being dragged somewhere, he was reluctantly following as she pulled on his hand. Then he saw a door. They walked in. It was all already a blur, and it went dark.

Sam woke up the next morning in a bed he didn't recognize. He didn't even know what building he was in.  He frantically reached into his pockets but his phone was missing. He must have dropped it sometime last night. He sat up and immediately regretted it as the urge to vomit overcame him. He stayed still until his nausea subsided and then glanced around. There were two girls asleep in the other bed, and a guy on the floor in his boxers. Thank God Sam had his pants on at least... 

One of the girls looked familiar. Had he seen her the previous night?

Suddenly fuzzy memories came flooding back. Drinking at Alex's, heading out to the Quad, Alex trying to get him to get him to make out with random girls, the girl in the police woman costume... The nausea came back in full force. He was about to flee to the bathroom when the girl stirred in bed. She sat up groggily rubbing her eyes. 

"Hey... Sam right?" 

Sam nodded warily.

She ran her fingers through her matted hair. "Shit sorry, you were kind of a mess last night."

Sam's eyes widened. "Did I... did we... did anything happen?" 

She shook her head. "No you were the perfect gentleman, aside from the passing out part. Not like this guy," she waved at the figure on the floor. 

Sam let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His relief must have shown on his face, because she frowned a little. "I mean, we did make out," she said, "Did it really suck that badly?"

"What? No, it didn't suck," he said distractedly, "Shit I gotta go, do you know where my phone is?"

She reached towards the desk and tossed it to him. "It kept buzzing all night so I turned it off. Some guy named Dean."

Sam's stomach dropped. He needed to get home right now.

He was frantic as he picked up his jacket off the floor, put on his shoes, and grabbed his cell and bolted out of the room. He ran through the campus to the Caltrain. When he sat down, a wave of guilt crushed him. Dean must’ve been worried sick. The least Sam could’ve done was to be sober enough to pick up his phone when he called to check in. But he didn’t even manage to do that. He felt awful, and sick to his stomach. 

He was out of breath when he got to their house’s door. The lock was giving him a hard time. When he finally managed to unlock the door and barge in, he saw Dean… 

Sitting across the TV, his back facing the door. He didn’t turn around to look at Sam, he just took another sip of his what seemed to be the 1 millionth beer.  _He must’ve stayed up all night and drank…_ Sam thought. Tears welled up in his eyes. There were empty beer bottles scattered across the coffee table. 

Sam rushed to Dean’s side, and kneeled before him, putting his hands on Dean’s knees. “I- Dean I’m so sorry. I swear it won’t happen again. I’m so fucking sorry, I drank a lot.. a-and I misplaced my phone and.. shit, Dean I’m sorry.” Sam pleaded.

Dean didn’t look down at him. He kept his eyes focused on the TV. Then he got up, shaking Sam’s hands off of his knees. “Well I hope you had fun.” He said. Dean’s voice was cold, with a hint of hurt. 

Then he walked past Sam, and locked himself in the bathroom. Leaning against the door, he sighed. At least Sam was safe. He was worried sick, and Sam had been reckless. And he was damn pissed at him. But he also felt hurt. He knew that this was gonna happen. Again, he was putting Sam in a difficult position, him just being there ruined Sam’s college experience. He felt guilty. That’s why he couldn’t be shouting at Sam, because he had his reasons too. So he went with distancing himself. He wondered if they would ever be able to go back to the way they were. 

He walked to the sink, looked himself in the mirror. He hadn’t slept all night, and he looked horrible. He washed his face then unlocked the door. Sam was standing right in front of him. 

“Talk to me, Dean, be mad, do something, please…” Sam whispered. He wrapped his arms around Dean but he didn’t respond.

“It’s ok, Sam. Do whatever you want. I’m gonna get some sleep.” Dean slipped out of Sam’s embrace, and went to the bedroom, throwing himself on the bed.

Sam stared helplessly at his brother. He'd expected Dean to be angry, disappointed, but not so...cold. His arms burned from Dean's absence. He stared at Dean's back, tears welling up in his eyes. How had he let this happen? He'd fucked up, again. Dean was hurt because of him,  _again_.

His arms burned for a different reason now. He took one last look at Dean, stomach rolling with pain, and then stumbled backwards into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and let the sobs free. 

He'd promised Dean he would be responsible and safe, and he'd broken that promise. He'd promised Dean that college life would never get between them. He was on his way to breaking that one too. 

He'd promised Dean he would never cut again. His track record for broken promises was three for three. He yanked open the medicine cabinet and found the box of razor blades on the second shelf behind the toothpaste. With shaking hands he opened the box, staring down at the gleaming metal inside. He took a deep breath, silently wishing that Dean would come in and stop him, but he didn't hear any sounds from the bedroom.

So he rolled up his sleeve and sliced two quick deep lines into his already scarred skin.

He immediately felt guilty. He'd thought that the pain would bring him relief, that punishing himself would make up for how he'd hurt Dean, but it just made it worse. He had to fix this. 

He yanked his sleeves down over his arms and reluctantly opened the bathroom door.

"Dean," he pleaded softly. "Talk to me, please." 

But Dean didn’t respond.

Dean woke up in the afternoon, to an empty bed and a silent house. He immediately felt the panic surge through him, thoughts spinning in his head. Did Sam leave?  _Did he finally understand that I was holding him back?_ But he settled down with the sound of a light sneeze from the living room. Sam was still there, and probably upset. Dean had seen Sam’s eyes when he slipped out of his arms. He was hurt, and he felt so guilty. But Dean was pissed and he didn’t know what to do, so he’d left. He regretted his decision. He should’ve stayed with Sam.

He stared at the ceiling, trying to come up with the words that would make everything okay between them again. Half an hour past and his mind was still blank. He got up from the bed, and walked to the living room. He was about to sit down next to Sam when he noticed the 2 lines of smeared blood over Sam’s shirt. 

 _NO!_ His brain was screaming at him.  _YOU did this! You did this to him! You hurt him! It’s all because of you! YOU!_ He froze. Sam was looking up at him, hopeful that Dean would say something. But Dean couldn’t function. 

“Dean…” Sam mumbled, and nervously shifted on the couch. Dean looked into his eyes. Sam saw the emotion. He wasn’t cold anymore. He was destroyed. His eyes looked at him with such pain that Sam felt his heart clench. 

Dean stayed like that for another second, then stumbled towards the bathroom. He ripped open the medicine cabinet and got the razor box out.  _Remember what you said, you will go through this with him. Every cut on him is every cut on you. Especially if YOU were the reason._ His brain said this continuously as he struggled to get the razor out of the box. 

Sam had followed him to the bathroom, and was now watching from the threshold shocked.

Dean finally got the little cold metal out, and pulled his sleeve up. He slashed 2 deep scars on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Sammy…” he whispered. “I told you. We’re gonna go through this together.” he continued before collapsing on the floor and breaking out into sobs that shook his whole body. 

“Dean!!” Sam shouted and dropped to his knees right next to Dean. He wrapped his arms around Dean and squeezed tight. Dean responded by holding him tighter. 

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m the reason you did those… Me. I’m the one holding you back!” Dean pleaded into Sam’s chest, clutching on his shirt.

Sam pulled back like he'd been burned. "What?" he exclaimed. "Dean, no, that's not why. I hurt  _you_." He stared down at his wounded arm. "Dean I didn't mean to, I regret this, all of it." He took a deep breath. "The cuts... I shouldn't have. And I shouldn't have gotten drunk last night. It was stupid. I...I didn't even have fun. I should have stayed home with you." 

He looked up at Dean, tear filled brown eyes meeting murky green ones. "Dean, I love you. And I fucked up. This is all my fault. Blame  _me,_ " he begged. 

"Sammy it's not your fault." Dean tried to embrace Sam, but Sam tensed.

"Yes it is Dean! Dammit stop putting all this on yourself. I broke my promise."

Dean frowned. How could Sam think that? Dean was the one to blame. His unfair expectations, the cold way he'd treated Sam when he came home... He couldn't sit there and let Sam beat himself up over this.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around Sam, kissing him on the forehead. 

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I'm not mad. I was never mad. I was scared, okay?" He felt Sam relax a little in his arms. "I love you and I don't want to lose you. I guess I overreacted."

Dean let out a little sigh of relief as Sam's arms slid around his waist. Sam let all of his weight fall into Dean. Dean always knew exactly what to say.

"Are we okay, baby?" Dean asked, tucking Sam's hair behind his ear and wiping away a tear with his thumb. Sam couldn't verbalize his thoughts at that moment so he just nodded and let Dean kiss him. They would be okay.

After sitting there holding each other for what seemed like hours, Dean pulled away and got up. He wetted one of the towels and sat back down. He pulled Sam’s sleeve up and wiped the dried blood off of Sam’s arm. Sam grabbed the towel from Dean’s hand and did the same, then placed a kiss on Dean’s wounds. “I love you Dean. I promise I won’t cut, I know I told this before and broke it, but not this time.”  Sam looked into Dean’s eyes. Dean smiled and kissed Sam’s lips. “I know you won’t, baby, I trust you.” Dean breathed into Sam’s mouth. Sam clutched Dean’s collar and pulled him closer for a deep kiss. He brushed his tongue on Dean’s lower lip and Dean opened up, letting Sam’s tongue explore his mouth. They kissed until they were breathless, hands roaming through each other’s backs.

“Did you eat anything?” Dean asked, breaking away.

“No.. Did you?” Sam replied.

“Nah.. There’s nothing in the house…” Dean chuckled, he wasn’t the best cook, okay, but he wasn’t the best shopper either. He always got lost between the isles, trying to figure out the difference between brands. “And… I’m sorta starving.”

“You’re always starving.” Sam joked and placed a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. “Come on, let’s see if we can get your starving to subside for a little while.” he said, getting up and pulling Dean up with him.

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam as they walked the aisles of the grocery store and Sam leaned into his touch. They were good. For now. But Sam couldn't help wondering when he would mess up again. Dean said it wasn't his fault. But even though he kept telling him that over and over, Sam just couldn't make himself believe it. 

He tilted his head to the side and kissed Dean's cheek.

"What was that for?" Dean asked, smiling a little.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. I love you."

Dean squeezed his arm tighter around Sam. "I love you too, baby."


	9. Chapter 9

A few weeks later their father called. Sam and Dean were in the kitchen—Sam was studying for a midterm and Dean was making macaroni and cheese—and the phone startled them both. Dean assumed it was Bobby, or his boss, which were basically the only people who ever called him, so he answered it without checking the name. 

"Hello?" he answered, leaning on the table next to Sam.

"Dean." 

Dean froze.

"Who is it?" Sam asked, glancing up from his textbook. He saw the look in Dean's eyes and immediately he knew. He pushed his chair violently back from the table and stood up to flee from the room. But Dean reached out and grabbed his arm. 

"It's okay baby," he mouthed, hand over the phone. He held Sam close in a one armed embrace.

"Hi Dad," he said hollowly into the phone. The words felt wrong in his mouth and he felt Sam tense against his side.

"Dean, I know you don't want to see me. God only know why, I have no idea what I did to you boys. But I got your number from Bobby, and I think you'll want to know this." He paused, clearing his throat. "I got a lead on the demon. And I need a partner to help me get the son of a bitch."

Dean glanced over at Sam and saw that he was white as a ghost, chewing frantically on his lip. Dean pressed his lips against Sam's forehead, trying to silently comfort him.

"Dean are you there?" his father's voice barked from the phone.

"Yeah Dad, I'm here. Give me a second." He put his hand over the phone again and turned back to Sam. 

"Are you going?" Sam asked, voice trembling. 

"Not if you don't want me to." 

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and then looked back at his brother, face emotionless. "You should go. You gotta get him, Dean. For mom. But I- there's no way I'm coming with you. And there's no way  _he's_  coming here."

"I know, Sammy. Don't worry. I promised you'd never have to see him again." Dean kissed his brother, cupping his cheek gently. 

Then he picked up the phone again. "I'm in. But I'm coming to meet you, okay? And this is just business."

"Of course, Dean," his father replied, but there was something broken in his voice. And Dean felt just a twinge of guilt. 

Sam sat on the bed with worried eyes as Dean packed his stuff. 

“You’re gonna come home… right?” Sam mumbled, considering the horrible possibility of Dean deciding to stay with Dad. 

Dean’s eyes shot up, looking at Sam, his gaze punching a hole in his chest. “Of course Sammy! I’ll come back home as soon as I’m done helping Dad gank the bastard.” Dean leaned over and placed a kiss on Sam’s forehead and returned to folding his shirts and stuffing them in the duffel. 

“You’re gonna be okay, right? Just the two of you? If.. If you want me… to get your back.. I-I’m..” Sam forced out the words reluctantly. He hoped that Dean would refuse.

“No, Sammy, you don’t have to come, baby. We’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I just don’t want you having another… you know..” Dean trailed off. 

“No, I wont I promise!” Sam said hastily. He broke that mistake so many times, but he was determined. “Be careful, Dean.” Sam looked up at him with puppy eyes.

“I will, baby. You too.” Dean pulled the zipper on his duffel and closed it shut. I’ll call you when I’m on my way home alright, keep your cell close.”

They walked out of the bedroom and passed the hall, reaching the door. “Love you Dean.” Sam said, wrapping his arms around Dean’s torso, gripping him tight and taking in Dean’s smell. He buried his face onto Dean’s neck and held tighter. 

Dean held Sam as he got his goodbye. He combed Sam’s hair with his fingers and placed a kiss on his neck. Then pulled away and pressed his forehead against Sam’s.

“Love you too, Sammy. I’ll be back in a week, tops.” Dean breathed onto Sam’s face. Then kissed Sam’s lips bruisingly. 

When they broke apart, it was like their arms were on fire. They needed each other so bad, but Dean forced himself to open the door and walk out, shutting it behind him. He let out a heavy sigh, reminded by how my he loved Sam. 

Sam leaned against the door and felt the physical pain of being apart from Dean. It was the heaviest, most disturbing feeling. His heart ached when he heard the familiar sound of the Impala pulling out. Then the sound of the car disappeared slowly, and so did Sam’s happiness.

Sam dragged himself back into the kitchen, angrily rubbing tears from his eyes with the heels of his palms. He and Dean had spent hardly any time apart in the weeks since Halloween. The prospect of spending an entire week without Dean was overwhelming. He tried not to think about it, and put all his energy into writing his paper about the French Revolution. 

That night he couldn’t sleep at all. The bed was too big and cold without Dean curled around him. He finally managed to doze off from exhaustion around four in the morning, clutching Dean’s pillow close to his chest.

He went through the next day on autopilot, zoning out in all of his classes and barely saying a word to Ashley and Alex at lunch. They both called him out on it and he brushed them off, but Alex was persistent.

“Did something happen?” he asked. Sam shook his head. “Come on Sam,” Alex arched an eyebrow, “I know you’re always the silent broody type, but this is just extreme. You’re like a freakin’ zombie, dude!” 

Sam gave in. “Dean had to go out of town for… business.”

“Oh honey, I’m sorry,” Ashley comforted.

“It’s fine,” Sam looked away, “I’m okay.” He wasn’t, but he didn’t want to talk about it. It wouldn’t bring Dean back any sooner. His cell phone was burning a hole in his pocket. He wanted so badly to call Dean, to hear his voice, but he didn’t want to distract him. 

He managed to escape Ashley and Alex until Friday when they ambushed him as he was heading towards the Caltrain.

“Sam, we’re not going to let you go home and mope alone,” Ashley said firmly. 

“Come hang out with us,” Alex proposed, “We’ll have a small get together, just play board games or something. Please?”

Sam considered, trying to come up with excuses to beg off, but he couldn’t come up with anything. “Okay fine, just a small thing though, right?”

——

It was not the easiest thing for Dean either. He didn’t realize how much he needed Sam in his life this drastically before. When he got into the car, the first hour felt like years. He didn’t even want to turn the radio on to his favorite rock channel. His eyes kept looking for Sam in the seat next to him curled up against the window. 

When he met up with Dad, he looked more tired, more worn out and definitely older. Dean’s heart ached for a second before he remembered the scars on Sam’s arms…. and his arms.

It was like they were two strangers working on an ordinary job. Dean kept his distance, and only addressed his Dad when he had something to say about the demon. Dad was acting even more tense around him and it put him on edge. This was not a pleasant situation to be in. They barely talked on the first three days. Dad tried to ask about what happened, but Dean cut him off. Both because he promised Sam, and because opening up to people and talking about his feelings was not his best game. That only felt okay when it was with Sam, and even with Sam he did it rarely. 

Dean knew he had to get some good sleep if they wanted to have a chance against the demon. He needed to be in his best shape, at his highest. But the nights were horrible. He would wake up in the middle of the night, looking for Sam’s warmth next to him. He wouldn’t realize where he was, so his eyes would turn to the bathroom, worried that Sam might be in there, cutting… Then he would remember, and instead of relief, he would get this huge weight dumped on his heart. The coldness of the queen sized bed would disturb him constantly. All three days went like this.

On Friday, after Dean came back from getting lunch for the two of them, John sat at the table, and looked at Dean. 

“We have a solid lead.” he said, emotionlessly.

“That low-rank demon we forced to talk last night? He was constantly mumbling about something called Afres? Turns out it’s the name of an abandoned warehouse building downtown. The demon will find out that we know it’s whereabouts soon, and if we don’t get it tonight, it might fall off the radar for months. We may never find it again. We’re going in tonight Dean.”

Dean looked at him, weighing his options. If they did this tonight, he could go back to Sam a lot sooner than he thought. “Okay. We’ll go in tonight.” Dean said, with the same emotionless face his father was wearing.

Hours later, Dean and John were parked out front, staking out. They’d counted 3 demons so far. That was a fair amount. They could handle 3 demons. And they had the Colt. The odds were that they would survive this night. 

—

Sam should have known that Alex’s “get together” would eventually turn into a full blown rager, but he’d be casually downing beer after beer for about an hour before people started showing up, so it didn’t really phase him much. By the time he realized where this was heading, he really couldn’t give a shit one way or the other. He’d hit that level of drunkenness where staring at a wall and crying not to cry seemed like great ideas.

He needed Dean. He was literally falling apart without his brother. He gulped down another beer and reached for his cell. No missed calls. He glared at it angrily.

Two beers later and he was curled in a ball on the floor, shaky hands dialing Dean’s number. It rang three times and went to voicemail. 

“Dean,” he slurred, “Dean, I miss you. I love you. Come home.” His voice broke, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I need you,” he choked out and shut the phone, letting it drop to the floor.

He immediately regretted it, horrified that he had sounded so desperate. Dean would want to come home as soon as he heard the message to make sure Sam hadn’t hurt himself. “Shit,” he muttered, wanting to call back and say it was all okay, but he knew that once he heard Dean’s voice on the answering machine all of his strength would crumble and he’d beg Dean to come back to him.

Instead he stumbled to the fridge for another beer, and everything got fuzzy after that.

The next morning Sam woke up on the couch with five other people scattered across the floor, still snoring. The place was a mess. He got up clutching his hair and rubbed his eyes. He got his cellphone off the floor and checked for anything from Dean. There were 27 calls. A wave of thoughts went through Sam’s head and his hands started shaking. Then he pressed the button and saw who they were from. Over half of them was from Dad. And the others were from Bobby. But no Dean… 

He felt panic surge through him. He dialed Bobby and chewed his lips waiting for the old man to pick up. After several long rings, Bobby picked up.

“Sam… Why won’t you pick up your damn phone boy?!”

“I— I’m sorry, Bobby, did something happen to Dean? I saw.. Da- Dad called too.” 

“You.. um, this.. Look, Sam we can’t talk about this on the phone. You need to get your ass to Bakersfield Memorial Hospital. And.. Sam, bring everything you have, clothes and ammo. Don’t leave anything behind. You might be here for a while.” Then Bobby hung up, and the silence punched a hole in Sam’s chest.

This mind stopped forming complete thoughts. But one word was highlighted and in flashing lights in his brain. Dean.

He ran out of there, he chewed his lips till they bled as he sat in the Caltrain. He bolted out of there and ran home, barely being able to unlock the door. His body was on autopilot. His hunter instincts had kicked in when he heard the word hospital. He quickly packed all the clothes they had, and another duffel for guns.

The next thing he knew, he was driving to Bakersfield in a stolen car going 70 miles per hour. He didn’t care if he crashed and burned with the car. He just wanted to get to Dean. So he stepped on the pedal and a few hours later he was rushing towards the ER entrance. He slammed his hands on the table and asked for Dean. The nurse behind the table gave him a glare then pointed him to the second floor. He ran up the stairs and found Dad and Bobby standing outside, whispering. Dean was nowhere in sight…  _He’s hurt…_  Sam thought.  _Bad…_ Then tears started streaming down his face and he gripped his father’s shirt shaking him.

“Where is he?! What happened!!! Dea—” Sam broke out into sobs and released his father. 

“He’s inside.” John spoke in whispers. “Sam, he’s— he’s in a coma.”

Sam’s eyes shot up to meet his father’s sad gaze. Then he collapsed on the floor and cried his eyes out. “I— It’s all my fault..” His voice cracked, and rough. ” Dea— I want to see him. Lemme see him, p-please…” Sam choked back a few sobs, then gave up and started crying again.

“Sam, you can’t go in, the doctors just got him stabilized—” Bobby tried but Sam wasn’t listening. He leaped up, away from Bobby’s attempt at a comforting pat on the shoulder and sprinted to the door before anyone could stop him.

The doctors had to physically hold Sam back from flinging himself onto his brother. He couldn’t see anything except Dean’s pale body lying on the hospital bed, tubes snaking out of every orifice. 

“Dean!” he screamed as the doctors pulled him out of the room. Once the door was shut again, they let go of him and he crashed to the ground, shaking. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. But he could smell the sickening, sanitized hospital stench and that was  _Dean_  in there.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around, ready to attack, but it was Bobby. The older man held out his hand to help Sam up, and Sam took it, allowing Bobby to pull him close against his chest.

“Sam,” he said gruffly, but his voice had an unfamiliar tremor. He leaned closer so just Sam would hear. “This isn’t your fault. Do not, for one second, even think that, you hear me boy?”

Sam nodded, but he knew Bobby was just saying that. It was his fault, for not being there for Dean. His fault for not answering his phone when his father first called.

But Sam clung to Bobby, aware that his father was standing awkwardly behind them, clearly unsure how to react to Sam. Finally Sam pushed away. He steeled his face and addressed his father.

“Tell me what happened,” he growled.

“Sam,” John pleaded.

“Tell me.”

“We were staking the place out, counting the demons. There were not many of them so we thought we could handle it. We sneaked around back, thinking that we could surprise it. But someone or something had already tipped them off. They were waiting…” John told him while Sam’s angry eyes burned through his chest. Sam clenched his jaw and forced himself to listen as he rubbed his hands frantically, trying not to let out the sobs building inside him.

“He managed to knock out most of them. I spotted the demon, and went after it, didn’t see that more demons came up behind him. They knocked him out, and kicked him down the stairs. He fell down 3 stories. I managed to drag him out pointing the Colt at the demon, but it was too late…The doc says he hit his head several times. That’s why he’s not waking up. His body has shut down trying to keep out the excessive amount of pain. Sam… he- he may never wake up again…” John’s voice dropped to a whisper when he was saying those last words, and his shoulders dropped with it.

Sam didn’t have the strength to hold it back anymore. He broke out into violent sobs, shaking uncontrollably. Tears were streaming down his face and Dean’s face appeared before his eyes. That beautiful smile of his, that proud face when he told him that he got into Stanford… That pained expression when he saw Sam’s scars, that frown when he told Dean that he didn’t want to hunt anymore. He held his head between his hands and tears started falling down on the ground. 

“I should’ve had his back… I was... I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THERE!” Sam shot up and punched the wall with all the strength he had. The wall gave in and 3 small dents smeared with blood formed on the wall. Blood trailed down his knuckles and wetted his sleeve. He looked at the blood… Then ran towards the bathroom.

He didn’t even bother locking the door behind him. No one was going to stop him now. Bobby and Dad had no idea and Dean… God  _Dean_. His father’s words rang in his ear.  _May never wake up…_

No. He couldn’t. Dean. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he barely glanced at it before hurling it at the wall. The only person whose calls mattered was lying half dead in a hospital bed.

He threw up what little was left in his stomach into the toilet. Then he reached for his knife, still nauseous.

His cuts were frantic and haphazard, jagged lines crisscrossing his skin. He sliced deeper than he ever had before. Blood soaked into his shirt, dripped down onto the floor. As white spots flashed in his vision he briefly thought about the irony of being in a hospital. The hand holding the knife when limp and the heavy metal fell to the floor with a clang. He stared down at the blood pooling up, and sank back against the wall. 

In his haze he imagined the door bursting open, Dean racing in, Dean’s hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake, Dean crying out, Dean holding him close, Dean telling him it would be okay. He smiled weakly. “Love you… Dean…” he gasped out as consciousness escaped him.

The hands weren’t Dean’s. They were Bobby’s. He held Sam’s weak body close, desperately trying to keep Sam awake, to stop the bleeding. He shouted for help and the door banged open as nurses rushed in. 

John Winchester stood by in horror as his second son was rushed out on a gurney. He looked at Bobby, begging for an explanation. What had he done wrong? How badly had he fucked up as a father to have to see both of his sons in such pain? 

After Sam was patched up and sedated, the nurses had him moved to Dean’s room. They were in beds side by side. Both deep in sleep, one to wake up in a few hours and one that has the possibility to never wake up again.

John got out of the room once he made sure Sam was okay. He let himself fall on the bench outside with a defeated thud. 

“How did this happen?” he asked, begging Bobby to explain, because he sure as hell didn’t see how.

“Sam thinks it’s his fault that Dean got hurt. He wasn’t there to cover Dean’s back. In his mind, he’s as good as the demons who put Dean there. He thinks he did this.” Bobby explained, sitting next to John.

“It’s probably because of me. Bobby, remember when Dean had his leg crushed by that poltergeist? I blamed Sam for not covering Dean’s back. I was just trying to teach them to take care of each other, take care of themselves. How the hell did it come to this?” John pleaded rubbing his forehead.

“Don’t ya see ya idjit? You pushed them so far that they now blame themselves for everything that happens to the other. They think it’s only their fault. You raised them into this. You didn’t give them chances for mistakes, for accidents. You were all perfection perfection all the time. Of course this happens.” Bobby was furious. Those boys didn’t need this. John’s vengeful search for the demon had blinded him, and he raised his “soldiers” to accept nothing but accuracy, and success, and he’d given them no margin for failure, for accidents. This was bound to happen eventually…

“There’s nothing you can do now. Just leave ‘em be, they need each other to recover from this.” Bobby added. They always recovered by leaning on each other. Bobby admired that about the boys.

“Fine…” John gave up. He was never good at this. He would let his boys do whatever they wanted to this time. He’d pushed them into enough unwanted situations. He could spare this one.

“Go get some coffee. Straighten yourself up. I’ll watch for ‘em.” Bobby patted John on the back, slightly nudging him to get up. John sighed, and got up. Bobby watched him as he dragged himself across the hallway and down the stairs. This was going to be a long night.

John was still gone when Sam woke up. Bobby saw him move out of the corner of his eye from his post near the door. He rushed to Sam’s side as Sam struggled to sit up.

Sam blinked. “B-bobby?” He was disoriented. The last thing he remembered was the blood, the bathroom floor, Dean’s arms, the bright white light. He looked down at his bandaged wrist, and the IV in his arm.

He wasn’t dead.

“Sam,” Bobby croaked, voice raw with emotion. Sam looked away. He couldn’t deal with Bobby’s disappointment right now. “Sam look at me.” Bobby tried again. “Whatever you’re going through you can talk to me about it. You know I’m always here for you boys.”

Sam narrowed his eyes and turned back to Bobby. “You’re not mad?”

“Hell, boy, who do you think I am? Of course I’m not mad.” He pulled the chair up to Sam’s bedside and sat down. “Sam,” he cleared his throat, “The doctors said there were scars. They said this wasn’t the first time you…” his voice cracked with pain.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam said hollowly. 

“Is it because of your father?” Bobby asked. Sam’s face remained stonily blank. “Does your brother know?” 

Sam’s eyes flickered towards Dean’s bed. Bobby knew the answer.

“Sam, when I found you, you said… You thought I was Dean.”

Sam flinched at the sound of his brother’s name. And then his eyes widened in terror. What had he said? Did Bobby know?

Did their  _father_  know?

Then Bobby reached out and placed his hand over Sam’s. He wished he could assure Sam that everything would be alright. He wished Dean were able to tell Sam himself.

“I know how important he is to you,” Bobby frowned, emotion choking in his throat, “But you’re pretty goddamn important to us, so don’t ever try this again, ya hear me?”

Sam nodded, without even knowing what he was nodding at… 

“Did you… Bobby, Dean knew. He knew about my arms okay? He is.. he  _was_ helping me get through this.” Sam mumbled thinking about the scars on Dean’s arms, and trying to keep his sobs in. He  _was_  helping Sam… But now… Sam shivered at the possibility of never being able to see those deep green and loving eyes look at him again. His hand went up to rub one of the old scars outside the bandages. That old habit again…

“Wh- what did I say, when you found me?” Sam asked wearily, trying to figure out if Bobby actually knew that he and Dean… were… more than just brothers.

Bobby frowned. “You were really out of it,” he said and then paused, clearing his throat. “You thought you were dead.”

Sam’s eyes flitted to his wrist. And then to Dean. 

Bobby continued. “You… you thought Dean was dead to. That you were in heaven. You kept saying you were sorry.”

Sam breathed in relief, though Bobby still had a look of intense worry on his face. He probably thought Sam was totally fucked in the head, but at least he didn’t realize just how messed up he actually was.

“I  _am_  sorry,” Sam said quietly. “I’m sorry I did this to you, and to Dad. Everything I do… it just fucks things up.” That sick little voice in Sam’s head laughed at that. For Christ’s sake he couldn’t even kill himself properly. Not that that had been his intent, although he had been so far gone at the time even he wasn’t completely sure what thoughts were going through his head. 

“Goddammit Sam!” Bobby growled. “Stop blaming yourself for everything.”

“How can I, though?” Sam asked with a broken hollowness. “This…” he held up his wrist, “This was all me. How can you not be disgusted? How can you not hate me?”

Bobby looked like Sam had hit him. “Sam. If you honestly think that…” he trailed off, then in a pained whisper, “Christ Sam, what did your father  _do_  to you?” 

Sam’s face darkened. He didn’t want to think about his father. Dean and Bobby might think that John had screwed him up, but his father had never said anything to him that wasn’t somewhat based in the truth, and Sam knew that. Sam looked at Bobby with empty ghost eyes, and then flipped over and buried himself in the sheets, curling up in feigned sleep. 

When Sam woke up in the middle of the night, both Bobby and John were out of the room. Bobby had gone home to find a faith healer or something to fix Dean up, and John was sleeping outside on the bench, in sitting position, head laid back on the wall. 

Sam rubbed his eyes and sat up. He looked across the room where Dean was lying. His eyes gazed through the tubes coming out of his mouth and nose and several other stuff patched to his chest and arms. He looked lost and strained inside that mess. The feint sound of the machines dragged Sam to the darkness he so easily gave in to. He sat there watching his brother, his lover fight for his life in complete silence and without movement, and his heart ached. His eyes welled up with tears and he blinked, letting them create small trails down his face. 

His Dean, that smiling joyful man with endless love for Sam became this hollow body, pale and cold and motionless. Dark circles formed around his eyes gave him an even worse look. He looked drained. Sam blinked another set of tears free.

Then he got up, and yanked his IV closer to Dean’s bedside. He leaned over and kissed the dark circles around Dean’s eyes, wetting his face with tears. He painfully wanted to curl up on the bed with him, but their father was just outside. So he brushed his hand over Dean’s cheek and leaned closer. He whispered sweet nothings to a Dean that he wasn’t even sure heard any of these. He whispered his apologies over a hundred times, he told him he loved him over a thousand. And he begged him to come back over and over again. He held Dean’s limp hand the whole time. 

Then Sam’s knees grew weak, and he climbed on the bed and sat beside Dean. A stream of shaking sobs had him collapsing on Dean’s chest and he left small wet spots on Dean’s hospital gown. He clenched the fabric and cried into Dean. He kept waiting for Dean’s hand to move up, and brush his hair, then ask him what was wrong, but the hand never moved. Sam cried for an hour before he felt sleep starting to claim him again. He placed a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek. His mouth was parted and blocked with all the tubes. Then he pushed himself off of the bed and laid down on his own, looking at the meaning of his life from where he laid, and fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

When he woke again the room was crowded with nurses and doctors. He sat up immediately, swaying dizzily as blood rushed to his head. His thoughts went immediately to the worst case scenario-- Dean's condition had changed for the worse. Something had happened and he was crashing. Sam tried to stand up but a nurse caught him and gently pushed him back into the bed.

"It's okay, Sam," she comforted. "We're just doing some routine tests. We didn't mean to wake you."

But Sam couldn't calm his shaking. He knew she meant well, but he hated hospitals, hated doctors and nurses, hated how they never told you what was actually going on. He wished he'd stayed asleep. Even more so when  _Angela_  the _counselor_  came to talk to him.

He didn't need a counselor, he needed Dean.

So he sat through their half hour session, face calculatedly blank, not saying a word beyond the occasional yes or no, while Angela wrote god know what in her ominous black notebook. She asked about Dean, about their father. She asked about his living situation, about school, about his "future plans". 

Finally he got fed up with the words she was trying to put in his mouth and he stood up to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm eighteen. I don't have to talk to you. So I'm not," he snarled.

She frowned. "We can't let you leave the hospital unless we're sure you're... going to be okay."

Sam turned back to face her. "Yeah you don't need to worry about that. I'm not leaving until Dean does. And when he does, trust me, I'll be fine."

He slammed the door as Angela furiously scribbled notes on the pad.

When he got back to his room his father was standing outside the door. Sam froze, and his father looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. 

“Sam…” John tried, not breaking the eye contact, staring right into Sam’s angry eyes, searching.

“I don’t want to do this right now, Dad.” Sam cut him off. He didn’t know if he could handle it if this conversation happened. He wouldn’t be able to… Not when Dean’s not around. Not when he’s struggling in there. 

So he tried to walk past his father, and get in the room, but his father’s large hand moved towards his chest and stopped him. It was clear that the intention was not to hurt Sam, but he flinched and backed away, shooting his gaze at his father with such horror and anger that John stopped and lowered his hand.

“Son, what happened? What’s wrong? Why are you—” John started lining up every question that puzzled him but Sam stopped him.

“Nothing happened Dad, just leave it alone.” Sam replied. Then he walked past his father, got in the room and shut the door behind himself. He let out a heavy sigh and walked towards Dean’s bed. 

“I wish you were awake Dean. I can’t do this without you.” 

——

Sam sat on his usual spot for the last week, right beside Dean on the bed. He couldn’t believe it had been a whole week. It felt like years, long painful years.

Mumbling towards Dean had been the only time he ever spoke during the day.  He had sat there for hours and talked to Dean about everything, but nobody else. He’d completely shut himself down. His eyes would only go soft when he sat beside Dean and started talking, hoping Dean could hear him. 

He was on the middle of one of his talks when John and Bobby walked in. He hadn’t seen Bobby ever since the first night. He went silent, and watched as the two men approached him. 

“Found a hoodoo priest. He’s coming in this afternoon.” Bobby informed, noticing the spark of hope in Sam’s eyes.

“Can he fix Dean? Completely?” Sam asked, waves of hope radiating in his words.

“He’ll try. He thinks we got a good chance because it wasn’t exactly a supernatural accident. Technically he just fell down 3 stories of stairs.” Bobby said with a pinch of humor in his voice.  _Not exactly a supernatural accident…_ He thought, thinking about the irony.  _Well, it could’ve been true if it wasn’t some goddamn demon that pushed him down the stairs._

Sam flinched at the words. “Yeah.. Okay.” But he couldn’t help but allow himself go have some hope. He looked down at Dean.  _You’re gonna be home soon, Dean. You’re gonna be here with me. Oh god, please let this work…_

Sam hovered outside the door, pacing back and forth as the hoodoo guy did his hoodoo... things. Frankly he kind of creeped Sam out, with his lazy eye, and his hunch back. So Sam hadn't been too put off when he was kicked out of the room. He hated being apart from Dean though, even for this short while. 

And he needed to be there when Dean woke up. He needed to be the first thing Dean saw. He knew it wouldn't make up for not being there for him when he needed, but he had to make sure Dean knew how sorry he was.

Bobby sat in one of the waiting room chairs with his elbows on his knees, hands folded, watching Sam with soft eyes. John sat across from him, staring determinedly at the floor. Sam hadn't spoken to him in a week, and John had stopped trying to initiate contact. The look Sam gave him every time was just too painful.

Sam peered into the room but it was dark and he couldn't make out anything but the LED lights from the machines that were keeping Dean alive. 

Then suddenly the door banged open and Sam was face to face with the creepy guy.

"Is he okay? Is he awake?" Sam demanded.

The man nodded "I brought his spirit back... from the limbo world... he is in his body."

Sam had no clue what the man was saying, but it sounded good. He shoved past him and raced into the room, falling to his knees at Dean's bedside. He reached for Dean's hand, holding it to his cheek.

"Dean. Dean wake up, please," he begged.

He placed both hands on Dean’s face. He brushed his thumbs over his cheeks and begged him to come back. He begged Dean to forgive him.

Then the thing Sam was praying for non-stop for over a week happened. His hands still on Dean’s cheeks, he froze. 

There they were. He’d missed them. So much that it hurt seeing them again. They were right there, and Sam was lost in the moment. He thought this was what death must feel like. He thought this was what life felt like. Dean’s deep green eyes… Looking up at him, so big and so bright and so full of life. Love poured out of them every time he blinked. And Sam could see them again. Sam could stare into them, those beautiful orbs hiding behind long dark golden lashes.

“H-Hey Sammy…” Dean’s voice cracked with the sudden feel of burning in his throat. He hadn’t had a meal on his own for a week. But he managed to place that sincere broken smile on his face just staring at Sam hovering over him.

Sam’s stomach dropped when the corners of Dean’s lips curved to give him a smile. “Dea—” he collapsed onto Dean’s chest, face buried in Dean’s neck, crumpling his hospital gown by clutching fistfuls of it as he took Dean’s smell in. “I’m so sorry, so sorry…” His voice was muffled, John and Bobby didn’t understand a word, but Dean heard it. His hand slowly traveled up to Sam’s hair and brushed it. That was it for Sam, he knew Dean had forgiven him. “It’s ok..” Dean’s hand stayed in Sam’s hair as Sam’s sobs subsided and he finally took account of his surroundings again. 

His father and Bobby were waiting beside the door, staring at the reunion of the brothers.

Sam shot a weak smile at Bobby, still holding fistfuls of Dean’s gown, showing how grateful he was. “Thanks for helping bringing him back Bobby.” 

"Yeah, well, hoodoo only works if the person wants to come back. And it's not me Dean was coming back for," he looked meaningfully at Sam and then excused himself from the room to give the Winchesters some privacy. As John stepped into the room, Dean's hand reached for Sam's to give a reassuring squeeze.

John kept his distance, hovering a few feet from the bed, hands awkwardly tucked into his pockets. "Dean I--" he swallowed, unfamiliar words catching in his throat. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I was too focused on the demon--"

Dean cut it off. "Dad it's okay." He rubbed his thumb over Sam's hand under the cover of the sheet. 

"No it's not. I don't know what I did to you boys, but whatever it was, I'll never forgive myself. You-you're better off without me, I can see that." He turned his attention to Sam. "Dean told me about Stanford," he confessed and Sam tensed. "Congratulations son. If that's what you want... I'm happy. But you could have told me."

Now it was Dean's turn to tense.

"He tried, Dad, but you wouldn't listen."

John flinched, and Sam's eyes widened. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He wanted to throw his arms around Dean but he couldn't.

So he limited himself to squeezing Dean’s arm with reassurance. He looked into Dean’s eyes.  _You don’t have to do this. Not this. He is important to you…_

 _  
_“Ever since….” He cleared his throat, not because it was hurting but because he needed that few seconds to gather the courage to say what he was about to say.

“Ever since mom, you always turned the other way when we tried talking to you. It was like we weren’t even there, except when we were hungry, or learning how to hunt. I was okay with this. But, damn. Sam wasn’t, Dad. He was entitled to a normal life. I get why you did what you did, but this wasn’t one of those times. You shouldn’t have forced him to grow up so quickly. His first hunt… Should’ve been a lot later.” Dean’s voice was lost and he mumbled the rest of the words. Neither John, nor Sam heard him…

But John didn’t really need to.

“You know what’s out there. You boys needed to be trained. I couldn’t have you walking around clueless. And how can you talk about a normal life when that demon is out there running around hurting other people?!” John was furious, Eyes narrow and bloodshot.

Dean's eyes darkened. "Dad..." he pleaded.

"Dean. Think of how many people we saved. Are you really selfish enough to want to let them suffer so you can live your little apple pie life?"

Dean froze, reeling as if he'd been hit. It took him a moment to process what his father had said. And when he did, he couldn't believe it.

"Is that really what you think?" His voice cracked. "What the fuck, Dad? I wasn't even talking about me. I'm a hunter, Dad, you... shit I can't even..." he glanced over at Sam who had wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and was staring determinedly at a spot on Dean's sheets. 

"Dean..." John said quietly, obviously shocked himself at what he had said.

"No Dad, this is exactly what I mean," Dean's confidence was coming back. "All our lives you've acted like we had some duty, like all we could ever do was be hunters. And I'm okay with that. But Sam..." he swallowed. "Sam's gonna save the world someday too, I know it. You just gotta let him go."

John stared at his son, eyes red and moist. Then he turned to Sam, gaze dropping to Sam's bandaged wrists. 

"Was this my fault?" he asked, sounding like a broken man. 

"Dad, no.." Sam choked. But his father knew he was lying.

A tear escaped, rolling down John's cheek. 

A throat cleared near the door, and the three Winchesters looked up to see Bobby standing there. He looked pointedly at John and said "I think we need to take a walk."

John nodded and allowed Bobby to lead him from the room. As soon as he was gone, Sam launched himself into Dean's arms and let loose the sobs he'd been holding tightly inside. 

 “Sshh.. Sammy. It’s okay. He doesn’t mean any of that. Please, look at me. I’m alive, and here. And I’m here to stay. Please don’t cry anymore…” Dean’s eyes were tearing up, trying so hard to be the strong one. But It all was too fucking much.

“I… I want to go. Leave. I don’t want to see him again. And he was right, Dean. Damn it, he was so right! I tried to live my apple pie life, and look where it got us! I got you hurt, again!! Damn it, Dean, we are hunters. I never should’ve hoped.. hoped that we could be something else. Please, just… take me away.” Sam sobbed into Dean’s chest. The world was over for him. The only thing keeping him alive was Dean, and he almost got him killed. He would never forgive himself for it.

“Okay..Sammy, we’ll leave. Anything you want. Just, please don’t do anything to yourself.” His hand gently brushed over Sam’s patched up arm, and he held Sam closer. “Just don’t… I can’t live with that.” Dean’s voice dropped to a whisper. 

“I love you Sammy. Do this for me.. please. I promise we’ll leave as soon as I get out of this bed.” Dean combed Sam’s hair with his fingers and Sam’s sobs started subsiding. They stayed like that for another half hour, before they broke off to the sound of Bobby and John’s footsteps coming towards the room.

The door opened slowly, and Dean felt Sam tense beside him.

"Boys?" Bobby asked, tentatively stepping one foot into the room. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure Bobby," Dean answered.

Bobby entered slowly and took the seat on the other side of the bed from Sam's.

"Boys, your father and I... we decided we're gonna go after the demon ourselves. You two go back home, we'll take care of this."

"Bobby, no," Dean interjected. "You shouldn't have to--"

Bobby scowled. "Boy, I'm a hunter. I signed up for this. An' you... you didn't. If anyone shouldn't have to do anything, it's you boys. Go home. I'll deal with your father."

If Dean were strong enough he would have leaped out of bed and hugged Bobby. So Sam did it instead. He wrapped his arms tightly around Bobby who returned the gesture. Bobby held Sam's head close against his chest and said softly, "I'm here for you boys. Always will be. You remember that."

Sam nodded and loosened his grip. "Thank you," he said as he pulled away and sat down on the bed next to Dean.

Bobby glanced towards the door. "I'm taking your father with me now, unless you boys want to say goodbye to him?"

Sam violently shook his head and felt Dean's hand warm and safe on his back. Dean looked up at Bobby with pained eyes. "I think it's best if you just leave. But we'll be in touch, Bobby, I promise. Thank you."

Bobby nodded curtly. "You better," his voice was filled with emotion. And then he turned and left, and Sam and Dean were alone again.

Sam let out a relieved sigh, and Dean saw his shoulders go limp, relaxing, letting all the tension out.

His hand reached towards Sam’s hand, and pulled him onto the bed. Sam let him wrap his hands around his tired form, and sank into Dean’s chest. Dean was breathing slow and deep. Not like the way he breathed when he was hooked on those machines, forced and wheezy. That reassured Sam that Dean was healthy and conscious, breathing onto his hair.

“I have to call someone over, see how long do I have to stay on this damn bed.” Dean grabbed the button dangling off the side and pushed it, lighting a small light over his bed, and sending a signal to the nurses. A few minutes later a nurse came by, smiling at the boys cuddled up on the bed. 

“Oh I see you’ve woken up.” she said, seeming truly sincere.

“I’ll get the doctor to make the regular checks, then I guess we can release you tomorrow, Mr…” she got his file from its box attached to the bed, and read out ” Mr. Daniels.”

“Thanks.” Dean smiled and nuzzled closer to Sam.

15 minutes later, the doctor arrived. Sam was back in his chair beside the bed, and looking up expectantly at the doctor’s movements.

The doctor mumbled out a few words, but they were too quiet for neither Sam nor Dean to understand. He nodded a few times too. Sam thought that must’ve been a good sign. 

The doctor sucked in a deep breath and opened his mouth. Sam instantly shot up, carefully waiting for the words that would fall out of the doc’s mouth.

Dean smiled, and held out his hand for Sam to grab it, then squeezed.

“Okay, Mr. Daniels. Your vitals seem normal, and your head wounds are not looking like they’re going to get infected. I’m gonna prescribe something for the bruises on your legs, and your ribs, and something for the open wound on your head, just in case. You can leave tomorrow morning. I’ll sign the release papers first thing in the morning. I hope we never have to see you again.” The doctor looked up and smiled.

“Yeah, me too doc.” Dean chuckled, and turned towards Sam to smile, only to find Sam already smiling at him, his eyes full of joy. The doctor left the room to Sam and Dean, and got out without bothering them. 

 _They look happy together…_ he thought as he exited the room, they reminded him of how he and his wife used to be. He smiled and continued to walk away.

“Tomorrow, we can go back to the house, and I can make it up to you for being away for a while.” Dean smiled, and leaned to his side for a chaste kiss.

“Also, you can go back to school Sammy, you didn’t miss much, did you?” Dean frowned, guessing Sam didn’t go to any of his classes while he was in here.

Sam shook his head. "It's fine, I can make up the work." He didn't tell Dean that he'd missed two midterms while he was stuck here in the hospital. Dean was just getting better, he didn't want to add any stress. Plus it was fine, he'd just talk to his professors and explain the situation. Well, okay, he'd make something up.

He snuggled into Dean's chest. "I love you so much." he murmured.

"Me too, baby," Dean said, wrapping his arms tightly around Sam. Then he turned his attention to Sam's bandaged wrists. He reached for Sam's hands, holding them tightly in his own. "Sam..." he breathed, eyes wide, taking in the size of the bandages and the blood still seeping through.

Sam pulled his arms back. "It's nothing," Sam muttered. Then amended, "Don't worry about it. I'm okay now."

"Sam I thought we were--" he trailed off. Sam had made a promise, a promise Dean  knew he'd intended to keep, but Dean hadn't been there to stop him and Sam had slipped up again. And worse than ever. Dean cursed himself for not being there to help Sam, to comfort him and tell him it would all be okay. Once again Sam had hurt himself because of Dean.

Sam's eyes darkened. "Don't you even think of blaming yourself," he glanced down at his wrists, wincing. Then he closed his eyes and mumbled, "I just didn't want to live without you, okay?"

There was nothing Dean could say to that. He knew he would’ve done the same thing if he had no other place left to look for a way to bring Sam back. 

Instead he held Sam close. Took his smell in, and relaxed. He could imagine what Sam must’ve gone through, and it broke his heart. He pushed those thoughts away when he drifted off into a darker place, and brushed Sam’s hair with his fingers. He wondered what was next for them. Sam obviously wouldn’t let Dean go on any more hunts alone. But he couldn’t come with Dean either. He had school. Dean couldn’t shake this feeling. This feeling of unknown. He always knew what the routine was before. But now, it felt like something was about to change.

“You here?” Sam bumped against his chest. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, Sammy. I’m just glad you’re here.” Dean smiled, and placed a soft kiss between Sam’s hair.

“Where else would I be, jerk?” Sam chuckled.

“Bitch.” Dean laughed with him. A few minutes later they were both sound asleep. The safest sleep they got in weeks. And it felt so comfortable, even if they were squeezing into a tiny hospital bed, limbs wrapped up over each other. It felt like home.


	11. Chapter 11

They woke up the next day to the nurse’s soft calls. Sam smiled, stretched his limbs before he placed a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips and got off the bed, taking his place in his chair again. 

“Morning Mr. Daniels. Mr. Winchester.” she smiled at Sam and turned her attention to Dean “How are you feeling today?” she chirped. This woman definitely had that charm. She looked so young for a 40 year old. 

“Much better. Can’t wait to get up off this bed.” Dean answered, looking at Sam.

“Alright, well the doctor is signing your papers at the front desk right now. He still wants to see you one last time before you’re discharged. Then you can go home.” she smiled. 

“Thank you.” Sam gave a bold and happy flash of smile at the nurse, and she walked out.

“She’s nice.” Sam thought out loud.

“Well she got that smile out of you, didn’t she? She’s a damn hero in my book.” Dean teased Sam. Things were looking up again. 

The doctor gave Dean a clean bill of health and told them they were free to go. He gave Sam some ointment to take care of his and Dean’s wounds. Sam looked shamefully down at the bandages on his wrists, and the doctor gave him a pointed look when he made him promise to take care of himself.

When they finally got home, it was almost midnight. Neither Sam nor Dean had felt up to driving so they’d taken a bus. They showered together and changed each other’s bandages. Then they curled up in bed together, clinging to each other.

Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Dean’s waist and Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, hugging him to his chest. 

Dean let out a contented sigh, and pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead. Then after a moment he mumbled, “If you want me to stop hunting, I will.”

Sam stared up at him. “R-really?” 

Dean paused and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Sammy, this clearly doesn’t work. I mean, I love hunting. But I love you more. I’ll get a job. And…we’ll live a monster-free life. Okay?” Dean mouthed the words with a little disappointment.

He didn’t know what job he could get. He was only good for hunting, and looking after his baby. Maybe he could get a job at an autoshop…

But then again, would he be able to keep it? All his life, they traveled, never really settled in some place. The house he got for Sammy was the closest he got to settling down, and he didn’t even spend 3 consecutive days there… It was always one day or two days, then he was off to some hunt again. This would be tough. But it had to be done. Sam was more important. Sam was always the priority.

“But we can talk about this later… I need some sleep.” he smiled into Sam’s hair, placing a kiss afterwards.

He pulled Sam closer, let his breaths run down Dean’s bare chest when he exhaled. He found peace in that tickling sensation, and slowly fell asleep to the rhythm of Sam’s even heartbeat. Tomorrow was a new day, and Dean had a lot to sort through.

Sam woke up first and gently pulled himself from Dean's embrace. His brother was sound asleep, completely wiped out from the drive home the previous night. Sam smiled a little at the peaceful expression on Dean's face and then hastily scrawled a note before heading out to get breakfast.

When he came back, Dean was just waking up. Sam watched his momentary panic at the absence of another body in bed with him and then grinned at his groggy recognition.

"Hey," Dean mumbled, voice hoarse.

"Hi," Sam said coming over to sit on the bed next to Dean. He placed the coffee and breakfast sandwiches on the night stand. Dean reached out to pull Sam closer to him, wrapping his arms tightly around his little brother.

"Love you," he breathed, face buried into Sam's neck.

Sam let himself be held, enjoying the comfort of Dean's arms, trying not to think about how close he came to losing this.

Finally he forced himself to pull away.

"I have a lot of work to catch up on," he explained when Dean tried to pull him back. "And we should eat."

Dean reluctantly agreed and managed to push himself out of bed and head over to the kitchen table. Sam pulled out his laptop as Dean unwrapped his sausage McMuffin. They ate in silence for a bit until Sam cleared his throat. Dean looked up expectantly.

"So, um, I saw some help wanted ads at the post office when I went out for breakfast..." he looked up at Dean for his reaction and saw a flicker of something in his brother's eyes that he couldn't define. "There's a mechanic shop in town, and some other things if you want to take a look."

“I think I can take care of this on my own, Sammy. Thanks though. I just… I gotta find some place that’s close both to the house and the campus. Just in case. And some place that I feel okay with.” Dean explained, as he took the paper from Sam’s hand and tossed it on the bed.

“Okay, Dean.” Sam grinned, and went back to eating his breakfast. He was not surprised that Dean wanted to do this on his own. But he was shocked to see that he came around so quickly. He hoped that this wouldn’t come back and bite them in the ass, and finished his breafast with one giant bite.

Afterwards they cleaned up, and Dean drove Sam to campus, later going halfway back to the house. He saw a mechanic shop, and pulled over. There was no “Help Wanted” sign. But he figured he’d try, push his luck a bit.

The owner was a grumpy old man. A little hunched back, just the slightest Italian look. He fixed his glasses, pushing them to the bridge of his nose, and looked up.

Dean smiled weakly. But before he could say anything, the man spoke in a low tone. His voice was cracked, the usual way old men sounded, or whatever, Dean thought.

“Hey there, name’s Jackson.” the man raised a hand for Dean to shake. “What can I do for you today?” He gestured the men working on two other cars and continued “Of course I’m not going to do anything. I’m too old to go under these beauties.” He chuckled. Dean liked him. He looked like a nice man.

“I’m Dean. Umm…actually, I was wondering if you were hiring. I really need a job.” His shoulders dropped with pain when he said that out loud. It felt like defeat. Like begging…

“Oh..” the man fixed his glasses again. Then he noticed the Impala. “That yours?”

Dean laughed with relief. The man really knew about good cars. “Yeah… was my father’s. Been in the family since it first came out of the factory. Now it’s mine.”

Jackson looked at Dean with appreciation. “Those girls need some serious maintenance. You take care of her yourself?”

“Yeah. Know each one of her screws like the back of my hand. Look, sir, I could really-” Dean stopped mid-sentence when the man raised his hand.

“You can call me Jackson, Dean. And you can start tomorrow. 9 o’clock sharp.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. He didn’t think it would be this easy. He huffed out a relieved breath. “Thank you sir. I mean, Jackson. I won’t let you down.” His mood picked up instantly, he was smiling brighter.

“Okay, boy, don’t have a heart attack, now.” He turned to one of the men cleaning the tools and shouted “Hey, Bill. Give Dean a jumpsuit. And a quick tour of the shop, will ya? He’s gonna start tomorrow.” He gestured Dean to go with Bill.

Dean smiled, and eagerly followed the large man, covered in motor oil.

Sam got everything straightened out with his professors. He explained that his brother had gotten in an accident and had been badly injured, and promised he could have all the work done in less than a week. They didn’t even ask any questions. His stellar grades until that point certainly helped the professors give him a little leeway.

Alex and Ashley on the other hand weren’t as easy to brush off.

“What happened? Was it Dean? Why didn’t you call us?” they bombarded him when he met them for lunch.

 “I-I’m sorry, things got a little crazy,” Sam explained, pulling his sleeves further over his wrists to make sure they didn’t notice the bandages. He really didn’t need this interrogation. In fact all he wanted right now was to get back home to Dean. But his friends were worried about him, and he understood. Sometimes he forgot that it wasn’t just him and Dean. He’d spent so much of his life with just his brother that it was sometimes hard to remember that other people existed, much less actually cared about him.

He gave them the car accident story, but a small part of him wished he could tell them the truth. They were sympathetic and comforting, and Sam appreciated it, though what he really needed right now was Dean.

So as soon as his last class was over, he bolted to the Caltrain and headed home.

Dean was waiting for him when he got there, a big smile on his face.


End file.
